tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49047249010012319352024-03-21T12:30:46.079-04:00My soul in silence waitsfor God alone my soul in silence waits
~psalm 62Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-85963634399570229142013-10-19T21:05:00.000-04:002013-10-20T11:39:02.483-04:00A Sermon for Children's SabbathThe 22nd Sunday after Pentecost<br />
Children’s Sabbath<br />
October 20, 2013<br />
Micah 4:1-5, Luke 18:1-8<br />
<br />
May the Word of God be spoken, and may the Word of God be heard. Amen<br />
<br />
Ten months ago I stood in this pulpit<br />
and began my sermon this way:<br />
<br />
<i>‘A voice was heard in Ramah,</i><br />
<i> wailing and loud lamentation,</i><br />
<i>Rachel weeping for her children;</i><br />
<i> she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.’ <span style="font-size: x-small;">Jeremiah 31:15</span></i><br />
<br />
This haunting lament from the writing<br />
of the prophet Jeremiah was,<br />
of course, in response<br />
to the senseless and brutal killing<br />
of 20 elementary school children<br />
and their teachers in Newtown,<br />
just a few miles down the road<br />
from where we sit.<br />
<br />
Ten months later, most of us have moved on.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That’s what humans do;<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>that’s how we cope.<br />
Life goes on, and memories fade,<br />
and we move on.<br />
But for the families of those 20 children,<br />
and those teachers,<br />
it’s not that simple;<br />
memories may fade,<br />
but the pain never completely goes away.<br />
Life is not and never will be the same.<br />
The world has been irrevocably changed.<br />
<br />
Like Rachel, they are weeping for their children, still.<br />
<br />
The brutal death of 20 innocent children<br />
was dramatic enough<br />
to capture the world’s attention.<br />
We vowed that this should never happen again.<br />
Nonetheless the deaths from gun violence continue<br />
–<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>in Hartford, in Bridgeport, in New Haven,<br />
in Chicago, in small towns and large cities,<br />
and many of them do not make the headlines.<br />
Do you know how many individuals have died<br />
since the Newtown tragedy<br />
as the victims of gun violence?<br />
Although statistics are surprisingly<br />
difficult to come by,<br />
and the best data likely under represents<br />
actual numbers<br />
the figure as of yesterday is at 9563.<br />
Yes, 9563 gun deaths in the United States<br />
in the last 10 months<br />
–<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>more than the number of US service people killed<br />
in either Afghanistan or Iraq;<br />
actually more than the two combined.<br />
One source estimates that an average<br />
of 7 children a day die from gun violence. <br />
And over the past 50 years,<br />
three times more children and teens<br />
died from guns on American soil<br />
than U.S. soldiers were killed in action<br />
in wars abroad.<br />
Between 1963 and 2010,<br />
an estimated 160,000 children and teens<br />
died from guns on American soil,<br />
while 52,820 U.S. soldiers were killed in action<br />
in the Vietnam, Afghanistan,<br />
and Iraq wars combined.<br />
That is sobering.<br />
<br />
Like Rachel, we weep for our children<br />
children (and adults who are still<br />
someone’s children)<br />
who die every.single.day<br />
from senseless gun violence.<br />
<br />
Now you might be wondering<br />
why I am bringing this up today.<br />
This is a sermon, and we’re supposed<br />
to be talking God stuff, right?<br />
<br />
We are getting to that, I promise.<br />
<br />
This morning we are joining congregations<br />
of all faiths across the country<br />
in observing the National Children’s Sabbath.<br />
This is the 22nd such observance,<br />
and each year a theme is chose to draw attention to<br />
the needs of children in this country.<br />
This year’s theme is<br />
“Beating swords into plowshares:<br />
Ending the violence of guns and child poverty.<br />
<br />
If that sounds familiar,<br />
it’s because it comes from the passage<br />
we heard read from the prophet Micah<br />
a few moments ago,<br />
and it echoes a similar passage<br />
found in the writings of the prophet Isaiah.<br />
Micah is proclaiming a vision of a world to come,<br />
a world in which God truly reigns,<br />
a world in which wars are no more<br />
and swords are beaten into plowshares<br />
–<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>tools of death become the tools of life,<br />
tools that ensure that all will be abundantly fed.<br />
<br />
Can you imagine such a world?<br />
A world of peace?<br />
A world in which we need not fear for our children?<br />
A world in which everyone is fed and fed abundantly?<br />
<br />
That is, my friends, the world God calls us to.<br />
That is the world God promises.<br />
<br />
And yet like Rachel we still are weeping for our children.<br />
<br />
We weep for our children,<br />
and as much as we long for change<br />
we feel powerless to make that change.<br />
In the face of powerful cultural forces<br />
that not only shape our world<br />
but also insist that it MUST be this way,<br />
we feel helpless; we become resigned<br />
to the ways things are,<br />
and we just quit trying to change them.<br />
<br />
This morning’s readings, however,<br />
give us a different message.<br />
If there is one theme that runs through<br />
all of our readings today it is persistence.<br />
That persistence is reflected in Jacob<br />
wrestling with the stranger in the night.<br />
Somehow Jacob recognizes<br />
that he is in a wrestling match with God<br />
and he persists until he receives God’s blessing.<br />
In a way Jacob represents<br />
the whole people of Israel, <br />
a people who although often recalcitrant<br />
are still willing to struggle<br />
to receive God’s blessing.<br />
Even when they stray<br />
the persistence of a faithful few<br />
sustains them in relationship with God.<br />
<br />
That notion of persistence is even stronger<br />
in our gospel reading<br />
where we find Jesus,<br />
still on his way to Jerusalem,<br />
teaching those around him<br />
with yet another parable.<br />
Jesus tells the story of a widow<br />
who repeatedly brings her case<br />
to a judge so that she might receive justice.<br />
This judge, we are told, respects<br />
neither God nor humans,<br />
and he turns her away time and again.<br />
The widow, however, does not give up.<br />
She comes back over and over<br />
until the judge,<br />
possibly just to get rid of her,<br />
gives in.<br />
Persistence, it seems, pays off.<br />
<br />
It’s tempting to hear this parable<br />
as a promise that if we just pray<br />
hard enough and long enough<br />
we will get what we want. <br />
And while we are certainly called<br />
to be persistent in prayer,<br />
the lesson in this parable, is I think,<br />
more complicated than that.<br />
<br />
The widow comes before the judge<br />
seeking justice against an undefined opponent.<br />
We don’t know exactly what is going on,<br />
but we do know that widows<br />
lived in precarious circumstances,<br />
and that in Luke’s gospel<br />
widows are often representative<br />
of the oppressed,<br />
so it’s not hard to figure out that her need is dire.<br />
Through her persistence this widow gets justice,<br />
more than likely something that allows her<br />
to continue to survive.<br />
<br />
Because it fits with our idea of how prayer works,<br />
we tend see ourselves as the widow,<br />
asking for what we need,<br />
with God responding<br />
more quickly than did the unjust judge.<br />
<br />
But this is a parable…it’s open to interpretation;<br />
let's look at it from another perspective.<br />
What if <i style="font-weight: bold;">God </i>is actually the widow<br />
and <b><i>WE</i></b> are the unjust judge? <br />
<br />
What if God is crying out to US<br />
to do justice in the world<br />
and we are failing to heed that call?<br />
<br />
What if God is coming to us over and over again<br />
begging for justice from us<br />
and we are turning deaf ears to God's plea?<br />
<br />
Think about it.<br />
<br />
PAUSE<br />
<br />
At the end of my sermon 10 months ago,<br />
I said that God is weeping with us<br />
as we weep for our children.<br />
God is present for us in our grief,<br />
and in our outrage.<br />
God calls us to a different world.<br />
I believe that God is with us<br />
as we seek justice for our children as well. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
On this Children’s Sabbath<br />
we are reminded of God’s vision<br />
for a world in which war and violence are no more; we are reminded of the persistence of Jacob<br />
in seeking God’s blessing, <br />
we are reminded of the persistence of the widow<br />
in seeking justice.<br />
We too are called to be persistent,<br />
persistent in prayer<br />
AND persistent in working for justice,<br />
justice and peace for all of God’s children.<br />
We must act to end gun violence<br />
We must act today, now,<br />
persistently, until our children,<br />
the world’s children are safe.<br />
<br />
In April, four short months after the tragic shootings,<br />
Mark Barden, father of one of the children killed,<br />
addressed the nation after legislation<br />
to tighten registration requirements<br />
for gun purchases failed<br />
to pass through Congress.<br />
He concluded this way:<br />
<br />
<i>“We return home with the determination that change will happen -- maybe not today, but it will happen. It will happen soon. We've always known this would be a long road, and we don't have the luxury of turning back…</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We will not be defeated. We are not defeated, and we will not be defeated. We are here now; we will always be here because we have no other choice. We are not going away. And every day, as more people are killed in this country because of gun violence, our determination grows stronger…</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Our hearts are broken. Our spirit is not.”</i><br />
<br />
PAUSE<br />
<br />
I will not presume to offer solutions<br />
for the issue of gun violence from the pulpit;<br />
I will only contend that such solutions must be found. <br />
<br />
God is calling us to seek justice,<br />
God is calling us to be persistent.<br />
God is calling us to beat our swords into plowshares,<br />
to live in peace,<br />
to reflect to each other<br />
the abundant love God holds for each of us,<br />
for all of God’s children.<br />
God is calling us to the day when we no longer<br />
have to weep for our children. <br />
<br />
May it be so.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-10512472111541126372012-12-15T23:48:00.000-05:002012-12-17T10:49:47.788-05:00LIke Rachel we are weeping for our children<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">‘<span style="font-family: inherit;">A voice was heard in Ramah,<br />
wailing and loud lamentation,<br />
Rachel weeping for her children;<br />
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.’ </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeremiah 31:15<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This morning, we gather to celebrate <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the third Sunday of Advent; <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we light the rose candle, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and we hear readings full of joy<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">—joy in the words of the prophet
Zephaniah, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">in the beautiful Song of Isaiah, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and in Paul’s letter to the
Philippians. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, though it might feel like a normal Sunday, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we know things are different.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can see some of the difference:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve chosen to forgo the rose
vestments <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’d normally wear on this day,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and our paschal candle, a symbol of
Easter, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> of
the resurrection, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">is lit alongside our Advent wreath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The more significant difference, I
dare say, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">is in our hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For there can be little joy in our
hearts <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">as we mourn the senseless killing<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> of 20 innocent children<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> and the
adults who taught them <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> and cared
for them <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">just a few miles from where we sit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead our hearts are cracked open with grief,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">filled with longing for what we have
lost,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">overflowing with sorrow for lives cut
so short, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for promises unfulfilled, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for futures not realized. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Rachel, we are weeping for our children.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We are weeping and yet grief is not our only emotion; <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">if you are anything like me, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">your hearts may also be torn by anger
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that this could happen, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">filled with rage over a world so
broken, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">heavy with fear that it will happen
again, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">weighed down by despair over how to
respond. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Rachel, we are weeping for our children.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is in moments like these I am especially grateful <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for the words of those who have come before us, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the words in our prayer book <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and in scripture <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that remind us <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that death does not hold the final
answer for us, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that we are a resurrection people, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and that as St. Paul wrote <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">in his letter to the Romans,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <i>“… neither death, nor life, <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">nor angels, nor rulers, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">nor things present, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">nor things to come, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">nor powers,</span></i><i><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #010000; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">nor height, nor depth, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">nor anything else in all creation, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">will be able to separate us from the love of God <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">in Christ Jesus our Lord</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">. </span><i><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Romans 8:39</span></i><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even with that consolation, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">even with that promise, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we weep for our children <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and we long for a way to respond. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is easy for us to feel helpless, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to feel powerless in the face of
evil, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to feel hopeless in the face <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of such overwhelming loss. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And it is true, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we cannot do anything<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to bring back those who are gone, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to take back the hurt, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to erase the damage inflicted on
those in Newtown, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and on the greater world <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But there <b><i>are </i></b>nonetheless<b><i> </i></b>things we can do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can pray. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can pray for the repose of the
souls <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of all those who have died. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And we can pray for all who mourn, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">all who are suffering, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">all who have been touched by this
horror. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can pray that we might be called
together<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to address the roots of such senseless
violence, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and we can pray that God holds us
close <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">as we deal with the tragic aftermath <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of Friday’s shootings. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can pray because in prayer <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we are called into God’s presence, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we are touched by God’s spirit,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> we are held in God’s gentle grasp. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can pray because God can take it,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> when it is
too much for us to bear<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> God can take
it<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">—take our grief, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">take our tears, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">take our anger, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">take it all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can pray. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can admit that we live in a broken world. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A world that is tattered and torn, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">a world that has strayed far afield
from God’s hopes, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God’s desires for us, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As God’s beloved children <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">created in God’s own image. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can acknowledge that we live in ways <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that often are contrary to the values
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that Jesus teaches us in the gospel, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that we frequently fail to recall
Jesus’ admonition <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that above all we should love God <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and love our neighbor, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that we fall far short of caring for
others <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">in the way Jesus would have us do. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And we can act. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We can act by reaching out <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to comfort those who mourn, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by not forgetting them as days go by,
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by offering our love <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and our reassurance <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that God is still with us, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">in the midst of all this. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But our action must not stop there. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As Martin Luther King wrote in 1963 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">after the killing of four innocent young girls <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">in a church bombing,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> “<i>We must
be concerned not merely <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">about who murdered them, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but about the system, the way of life, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the philosophy which produced the murderers.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We too must be concerned <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">not just about this murder, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">this senseless shooting, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but also about all the conditions <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that conspire to make <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">such acts of senseless horror
possible. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We must confront those things <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">even, <b><i>especially</i></b> the ones that
may be painful <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">or contentious to talk about, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and we must openly and honestly
address them<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">—things such as better ways <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of controlling access to guns, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">especially assault weapons, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ways of ensuring better access <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to mental health care <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for those in the throes of mental
illness, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ways of acknowledging and dealing with<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the glorification of violence in our culture<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">—and if you think I overstate this, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">just look at the most popular movies <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and video games on the market—<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and the influence that violence has
on our psyches, whether conscious or
unconscious. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We must act bravely and firmly <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to challenge the status quo, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we must not let ourselves be silenced
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by those who say <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we cannot or should not change. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In memory of all the innocent children, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we must act. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Rachel, we are weeping for our children. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And my friends, God weeps with us. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God is with us in our grief, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">our anger, our sorrow. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God is with us now and always. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God is with us now and always. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is that, in fact, not the hope of Advent,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the hope that sustains us?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even though joy may not be in our hearts this day, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the hope of that joy is ever present.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We hear that hope in the words of the prophet Jeremiah:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With weeping they shall come,<br />
and with consolations I will lead them back,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I will turn their mourning into joy,<br />
I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">. </span><i><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Jeremiah 31:9,13b<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">And we hear it in the words of the</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> psalmist:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Weeping may
endure for a night <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">but joy
comes in the morning</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">. <i>Psalm 30:5</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That joy is perhaps never more
evident <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">than in our celebration of the
nativity, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">as we welcome and honor <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that tiny babe wrapped in swaddling
clothes <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and lying in the manger, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that tiny babe whose life means so
much for ours, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and in whose death our promise of
salvation rests. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even in our grief, that hope, that joy, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that saving grace are there for us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Rachel, we are weeping for our children, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and God is weeping with us<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but that is not the end of the story<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for weeping may endure for the night<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but joy will come in the morning.<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-68876304256701552712010-09-18T17:02:00.006-04:002010-09-18T17:13:03.137-04:00Let justice roll down like waters...<style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }@font-face { font-family: "Calibri"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri; }p { margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Times; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" >The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost<br /></span><p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> September 19, 2010</span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Luke 16:1-13</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Amos 8:4-7</span><br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i> </i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>Almighty God, the breeze of your love and grace is ever blowing; may our hearts be lifted by that breeze, and may it inspire these words and those who hear them. Amen<br /><br /></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Money.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">It always comes down to money.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">For as long as humanity has dealt with any kind of accumulation of wealth, we have argued about it. And fought about it. For as long as we have used money, some have more and some have had less, and some have used wisely and some have squandered it, and some have been honest and some have lied and stolen and cheated. For as long as we’ve had money, it has exerted an inordinate power in our lives.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Some things never change.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Jesus knew this. Jesus talked more about money and our relationship to it than almost any other subject. Amos knew this. As a simple herdsman he probably never had much money but he understood its power.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">So it shouldn’t surprise us that both our Hebrew scripture reading and our gospel involve MONEY—money and its use and misuse, money and our relationship with it.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">In our Hebrew scripture we hear from the prophet Amos. Amos was called by God some 800 years before Jesus’ birth—called to leave his home in a small village south of Jerusalem and travel north, to the Northern Kingdom of Israel to deliver God’s words, God’s warnings to a people who seemed to be forgetting what their covenant with God really meant.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">The Northern Kingdom, you see, was enjoying a period of relative peace and prosperity, a time when all should have been well. But instead, greed was rampant and the gap between the rich and the poor was ever widening. What’s more, the people seemed to forget that their relationship with God entailed more than just observing the Sabbath, and the holy days. They forgot that what they did the other six days of the week mattered. They forgot that their behavior in every realm of their lives reflected their relationship with God. It had gotten so bad that some were even heard wishing for the Sabbath to end quickly so that they could get back to business—back to cheating and lying and exploiting in order to increase their wealth.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">It fell to Amos to point out to the people of the Northern Kingdom, to the rich and prosperous—which of course included the king—the error of their ways. It fell to Amos to remind them that their God was a God of justice, and that as God’s chosen people they were called to live just lives themselves, to order their lives in such a way that all could prosper, and to show special concern for the powerless-- the widow, the orphan, the resident alien, the needy, and the poor.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>“Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream,” </i></span><span style="font-style: normal;font-size:100%;" >Amos cried. (Amos 5:24)<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">It shouldn’t surprise you to hear that Amos’ words were not well received. Some things never change.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-size:100%;">Which brings us to the gospel. The parable of the unjust steward—or the shrewd steward, take your pick—is one of the most difficult passages in the gospels to understand. Jesus tells the story of a man, a manager, who was called on the carpet because there were rumors that he’d been squandering his boss’ wealth—whether it was through mismanagement or thievery we don’t know. The boss, the master, demands that the manager bring him a final accounting so that he can dismiss him and manager, understandably perhaps, freaks out. “I’m too old to labor and too proud to beg,” he says to himself, and then an idea comes to him. He calls in two of his accounts, and reduces the debt that each owes, hoping of course that being indebted to <b><i>him</i></b></span><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;font-size:100%;" > they will care for him when he’s out of work and on the street. Then the “shrewd” manager returns to the master who instead of being even angrier at this continued mismanagement of his assets, commends the manager’s behavior. It’s puzzling indeed.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">What’s even more puzzling is that Jesus does not lash immediately, condemning this dishonest behavior.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Instead, he almost seems to recommend it, perhaps employing a little sarcasm, appreciating the irony of the situation when he says </span><span style="font-size:100%;">to his disciples, “…make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Whatever we think of the outcome of the parable, and of the manager’s actions, one thing is clear—dishonesty begat more dishonesty. Lack of faithfulness begat more unfaithfulness. Devotion to money above all else ruptured relationships and caused a cascade of behavior that just multiplied the wrongs. The last line of the gospel highlights this: You cannot serve God and wealth.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">We cannot serve God and wealth.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Like the message that Amos brought to the people of the Northern Kingdom, this message from Jesus is one that is hard to hear—it was hard in Jesus’ time, and it’s hard now, because we have a love affair with money. Money means power, it means luxury, it means never wanting for anything, and what’s wrong with that?<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Well, this is what’s wrong with that –when we make money the be-all and end-all of our existence – our god as it were – we buy into a system that is incompatible with the world God created and envisions for us. We become, like the manager who cheated his master to make up for cheating that same master, like the people of Israel who observed the Sabbath all the while longing for its end so that they could return to their scheming ways, destined to continue behaviors that promote our own well-being at the expense of others. We participate in, we support unjust systems to serve ourselves.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">God wants something better for us, for all of humanity, all of creation. God wants a world in which every living creature is cared for, in which the needs of one are not met at the expense of another. God wants a world in which “<i>justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”<br /><br /></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">That doesn’t mean that we must give up our money, abandon our jobs, or empty our retirement savings. But it does mean that we must remember that God is the source of all that we have, and that God holds us accountable for how we use that abundance. We can’t serve God and wealth, but we can use our wealth to serve God, to restore a world in which there is true economic justice for every human being, in which we all live in the security of knowing that our needs will be met.<br /><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">AMEN</span></p> <p><span style=""> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-22648090051477979922010-08-28T19:31:00.004-04:002010-08-28T22:03:50.151-04:00In heaven all the tables are roundThe Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost<br />August 29, 2010<br />Luke 14:1, 7-14 <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12pt;"><i><span style="font-size:85%;">Almighty God, the breeze of your love and grace is ever blowing; may our hearts be lifted by that breeze, and may it inspire these words and those who hear them. Amen</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I was in the third grade my family moved from North Carolina to West Virginia, and I found myself as the “new kid” in the class. Being the new kid is always a little bit daunting, and this time, was no different. I missed my old friends and the only house I had known and my grandmother, but I began to make new friends and to adapt to a school where kindergarten through high school was on the same campus and we had a whole hour of recess at lunch time. And I really liked my new teacher, Mrs. Montgomery. Well, except for one thing: she kept talking about something she called “reseating” and I had no idea what she meant. She made it sound important, monumental even, and whatever it was would happen when we received our report cards. I was mystified, but I was also embarrassed to ask any of my new friends what she meant. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Come mid-year I found out. One cold snowy morning Mrs. Montgomery had us all drag our desks out of the neat straight rows they were in to the back of the classroom, and then she proceeded to instruct us in where to replace them—this was the mysterious “reseating;” you know, <b><i>re</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;">-seating, getting new seats?<span style=""> </span>Some how I had never made that connection. And it turns out that reseating was based on our grades; yes, in third grade, we were being lined up by our class rank: the child with the highest grades overall sat in the first seat in Row 1, and the child with the lowest grades was in the last seat in Row 4. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Of course, in third grade we hadn’t yet become too concerned about our grades, but we did understand that somehow where Mrs. Montgomery had us place our desks said something about us. And it became clear that being in Row 1 conferred some status, while being in Row 4 bordered on shameful. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I did make it into Row 1, although never into the first seat; after the first week or so, where we sat didn’t’ seem to matter that much unless our teacher made a comment about it. I admired the boy who sat in row 1, seat 1, but for reasons that had more to do with his sense of humor and friendliness than where he sat. And I always felt a little sorry for the girl who ended up in the last seat in row 4. Sandra had Down Syndrome, although we didn’t know enough to call it that. She was in our class because there were no special education services in the small school system, and she simply was passed on to the next grade every year.<span style=""> </span>Sandra was friendly and cheerful, but I can’t help but wonder if she too didn’t sometimes feel the shame and stigma attached with her seat. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hadn’t thought about third grade and “reseating” for a long time, but when I read this week’s gospel it was the first thing that popped into my head. I expect that Mrs. Montgomery, because she genuinely seemed to care about her students, meant reseating to be motivational, to prompt us to work harder; whether it actually served that purpose I don’t know, but I do know that for me at least, reseating was my first exposure to the notion that our gospel revolves around—the notion that that position matters. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Position matters—literally where you sit, and figuratively how your ‘standing’ is assessed by others matters—in our culture and in Jesus’ time. Being at the front of the line, at the head table, in the corner office matters. Status and honor and place matter. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">At least to us. But to Jesus—not so much. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jesus you see doesn’t see things the same way we do. For Jesus what matters is first of all being a child of God. What matters is loving God and loving others. Jesus doesn’t think more highly of us if we’re in Row 1, seat 1; Jesus doesn’t care if we’re in the corner office or stuck in that windowless cubby next to the elevator. In fact, Jesus might seek us out more quickly if we are at the end of row 4 or in the stuffy cubbyhole. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s a hard lesson for us to hear, it runs counter to the way we know things work in the world; like Jesus’ followers we live in a culture that is wont to rank order, compare, and judge. Prestige and honor and wealth matter. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or do they?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When Jesus is at dinner with the Pharisee, he watches as the guests take their seats, and he sees them jockeying for position. And then as he reflects on their behavior he offers two sage pieces of advice for those who would follow him, those who would seek the kingdom of God. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">First, he says, don’t immediately take the best seat, or even the second best. Instead go to the end of row 4, and maybe later you’ll be invited to move up. At least you won’t suffer the humiliation of being asked to move down; and really, it doesn’t matter anyway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As startling as that might have been, what Jesus says next must have been even more jarring: When you invite guests, don’t even think about whether they can reciprocate. In fact, you should invite those you know CAN’T reciprocate: the poor, the hungry, the homeless. Invite them to the table; give them a seat of honor—because THAT is what the kingdom of God will be like. That is what the kingdom of God IS. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jesus in not just playing Miss Manners; he’s concerned with far more than dinner parties and wedding feasts. Jesus is talking about LIFE. No matter what hand we’ve been dealt in this world—a world where then as now things never seem to come out equal and fair, we are all beloved children of God and we are called to love one another—not abstractly, but in our actions, every day. And if we’re among the lucky, the fortunate—as most of us are—it is all the more important for us to look out for those who are at the end of the line. We’re not called to judge them, we’re not call to blame them for their fate; we’re not called to tell them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. No, we are called to invite them to the table as our brothers and sisters in Christ; we’re called to feed them and care for them and we’re called to work for justice, and to right the wrongs in the world that make it so easy for people to end up at the end of the line. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Because in God’s kingdom there won’t be a head table, our desks won’t be in neat rows. In God’s kingdom all the tables will be round, and all the plates will be full. In God’s kingdom, the only status that will matter is being God’s beloved child.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We don’t have to wait for God’s kingdom either. God’s kingdom is not just in the bye and bye—it is NOW – not complete, not finished, by any means, but it’s here; it’s here in that wonderful already-but-not-yet way, shimmering on the horizon and experienced in glory in those moments when we are able to live just as Jesus calls us to live— when we forget about earthy status, earthly prestige, earthly honor; when we invite everyone to the table to be fed and cared for and loved. Because in God’s kingdom, that’s what matters.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Amen<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-44731076969536291892010-07-24T21:11:00.003-04:002010-07-24T22:00:48.091-04:00A Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost<!--StartFragment-->The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost<br />July 25, 2010<br />Luke 11:1-13 <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>Almighty God, the breeze of your love and grace is ever blowing; may our hearts be lifted by that breeze, and may it inspire these words and those who hear them. Amen<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Do you remember how you learned to pray?<span style=""> </span>Perhaps it was as a child, learning to say grace before meals: “God is great, God is good, now we thank God for our food…” or prayers before bed: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…” Perhaps you learned to pray the rosary,<span style=""> </span>or maybe you memorized the confession and the Lord’s Prayer in confirmation class. If you were raised in the Episcopal Church, as I was, the words of the liturgy may have seeped into your consciousness, “we acknowledge and bewail our manifest sins and wickedness which we from time to time have most grievously committed,” whether you understood them or not. Or if you grew up in a family where church going and prayer were not part of your routine, your first prayers might have been born out of desperation, “Help me, God,” or “Take care of her God,” or even, “I’m sorry, God!” or from a heart overflowing with relief and love, “Thank God he’s okay!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Prayer is one the most elemental parts of our lives as people of faith. In our corporate worship we join in prayers to praise God and to ask God’s blessings for ourselves and others. As a parish we regularly pray<span style=""> </span>for forgiveness, for healing, for strength, for patience. In our private prayers we ask for guidance, for God’s presence in our lives and for help in living as God would have us live. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As fundamental as it is to our lives though, in many ways, there is nothing harder than prayer. It’s often described simply as “talking with God,” which seems easy enough, right? But prayer requires us to open ourselves up, to bare our souls to God, and to let go of our need to be in control. At times, rather than being a source of peace and comfort, prayer can raise our anxiety levels. We wonder if we are praying enough, if we are we doing it “right”. We wonder what should we pray for and what it means when our prayers aren’t answered or at least not answered as we’d like them to be. We wonder if prayer still <b><i>matters.</i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">20<sup>th</sup> century preacher George Buttrick captures our ambivalence about prayer when he writes, “If God is <b><i>not,</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;"> and the life of man poor, solitary, nasty, brutish and short, prayer is the veriest self-deceit. If God </span><b><i>is</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;">, yet is known only as vague rumor and dark coercion, prayer is whimpering folly; it were nobler to die. But if God is in some deep and eternal sense </span><b><i>like Jesus</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;">, friendship with Him is our first concern, [our]worthiest art, [our] best resource and sublimest joy.”<a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=4904724901001231935#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[1]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In today’s gospel we get Jesus’ own take on prayer. Throughout the gospel of Luke we find Jesus praying: he<span style=""> </span>withdrew to deserted places or to mountaintops to pray, he prayed before he called his disciples and when he fed the five thousand; he prayed in the garden before his arrest, and from the cross. Prayer was an integral part of Jesus’ life, and his disciples had witnessed this as they traveled with him. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>Of course, as religious Jews, his disciples were no strangers to prayer themselves. No doubt they began their days with the shema, “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One,” blessed their food before eating, and prayed before they fell asleep at night. And yet, in watching Jesus immerse himself in prayer, they saw or felt or sensed that there might be yet more to know and so they ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jesus replies with a prayer that is simple, straightforward, and covers all the basics—in a way a template for how to pray in general. The strength of this prayer is testified to by its persistence through the ages. In this prayer Jesus gives us a vocabulary, words to address God—Father he said, but we might just as well say Mother or Parent—the point is that we are to address God intimately, as one with whom we are in relationship, as one who loves us as a parent loves a child, indiscriminately and unconditionally. And then, hallowed: holy, sanctified be your name; your kingdom come. In the ancient world, where God’s name was too holy to be uttered, this invocation envisions God’s power and dominion in<span style=""> </span>a world that then, as now, must often have felt out of control. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It is only after our relationship with God and God’s dominion in the world are acknowledged, Jesus tells us in this prayer, that we are<span style=""> </span>to petition God to meet our needs. And in those petitions—which are corporate “we” not individual “I” we ask for the essentials, for those things we need to sustain life: food for the journey, forgiveness for our sins—those thing which take us away from God—and notice this: that forgiveness is hinged on our forgiveness of those indebted to us; and finally faithfulness—let us not be put to the test O God, because we surely will fall short. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This form of prayer Jesus gave to his disciples and to us, of course, is not the only way to pray. But in its beautiful simplicity it holds out for us something even more important than the words it employs; it holds out for us the promise that we often seem to be seeking when we question the reasonableness, the usefulness, the validity of prayer. In this prayer, Jesus invites us into relationship with the God who created us, loves us, and who desires, even needs our prayers. Jesus invites us<span style=""> </span>into intimate relationship with the God who is Holy, the one in whom the power and glory reside, and then Jesus assures us that we can—should—ask that Holy One for those things we need, and we should be persistent, shameless even, to use a more precise translation of the Greek,<span style=""> </span>in our asking. Jesus invites us to pray and then to release those prayers as we might release a helium balloon, letting them go where the spirit will take them, letting them become fuel for God’s action in the world. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When we enter into that kind of relationship with God, with Jesus, with the Holy, in and through prayer, then prayer, no matter what words we use, or whether we use words at all,<span style=""> </span>indeed becomes for us our “worthiest art, best resource and sublimest joy.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AMEN</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <div style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br /><hr size="1" width="33%" align="left"> <!--[endif]--> <div style="" id="ftn1"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=4904724901001231935#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[1]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a> George Buttrick, <i>Prayer </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1942) 15. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><i>Emphasis mine.</i></span></p> </div> </div> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-62478281183044698152010-07-17T19:28:00.000-04:002010-07-17T19:30:46.381-04:00A Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after PentecostThe Eighth Sunday after Pentecost<br />July 18, 2010<br />Luke 10:38-42<br /><o:p></o:p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Imagine this scene. You’ve invited your extended family for Thanksgiving dinner. Aunts, uncles, cousins have traveled great distances so the family can be together. You’re delighted of course to welcome them but there is so much to be done: beds to be made, food to be prepared and served, a table to be set, pots and pans to be washed, and you bustle about tending to one thing and then another, confident that it will all be accomplished and grateful that you have your sister to help you. You know that family gatherings like this are important—but still, there’s a lot to do, and you’re beginning to feel a bit worn. As you move from task to task, you look around to see what your sister is doing, but she’s out of sight. Then, much to your surprise, you see that instead of helping you, she’s sitting in the family room, listening to your grandmother tell stories about her childhood.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you’ve ever been in a situation like this, you can easily imagine how Martha must have been feeling in today’s gospel story, and you might empathize with her complaint to Jesus, “Make her help me!”<span style=""> </span>And you might feel stung, as Martha surely did, when Jesus takes Mary’s side. It’s not what most of us would expect to hear. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Like the story of the Good Samaritan we heard last week, this story of Mary and Martha is a familiar one. And just as “Good Samaritan” has become synonymous for one who cares for others, so have the names “Mary and Martha” when uttered together, come to stand for the dilemma we find ourselves in from time to time, caught between the duties and constraints society places on us on the one hand and the desires of our hearts on the other.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s easy for most of us to identify with Martha, with the feeling of being put upon, having to take care of everything, having to be responsible while others are off, seemingly having more fun. Martha’s complaints were, by most measures, legitimate: As our OT reading illustrated, hospitality was a fundamental value; it was her role to provide a meal for her guests, to make sure their needs were attended to, and she had no one else to help her. So why does Jesus scold her and not Mary? <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The answer to that lies, I think, in the nature of Jesus’ message to his followers throughout this part of Luke’s gospel. Jesus consistently challenges his listeners to go beyond their comfort zones, to push the boundaries and restrictions that govern their lives, to put their relationship with him above even other culturally and religiously mandated behaviors. Jesus’ rebuke of Martha follows his chastisement of the man who wanted to bury his father before joining the disciples and the one who simply wanted to bid his family farewell. When Jesus says to Martha that “Mary has chosen the better part,” it is not so much a rebuke of the work Martha does—because it is good and necessary work—as it is a validation of Mary’s choice to take another way: to sit and listen, taking on the role of learner, of disciple, a role normally reserved for males.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jesus legitimizes Mary’s choice to act as disciple and in doing so he seems to legitimize women’s place in the life of the church. That would be radical enough, but I think Jesus’ message extends even beyond that. In the 1st century world of Palestine both men and women were entangled in and restrained by a complicated web of rules and expectations that defined what it meant to be respectable members of society. Jesus’ call to follow him was also a call to break out of that entanglement, to let go of the societal and cultural bonds that restrained them and to take on his yoke instead. This is a liberating message because when taken to heart it allows us to fully claim our identity as God’s beloved children, nothing more and nothing less.<br /><br />By chance, we hear this liberating message at the start of a week that will include the feasts days celebrating the lives and ministries of six remarkable women, women who like Mary chose, in their quest to follow Jesus, a path different from that prescribed for them by society.<span style=""> </span>Tomorrow we celebrate the feast of Macrina, a fourth century teacher and theologian. Macrina came from a family of wealth and power, but she convinced her mother to use the family fortune to start a monastery on the family estate. Macrina had ten younger brothers—three of whom became noted bishops: Gregory of Nyssa, Basil the Great, and Peter of Sebastea. Most of what we know about Macrina comes from a tribute written by Gregory, which credits Macrina with being their teacher and their spiritual director, the one who guided them on their journeys in faith. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">On Tuesday we will observe the feast day of four 19th century women, all of whom defied the bonds placed on them by society to seek justice for the oppressed and downtrodden. Two of these women, Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman, were born into slavery, and after escaping those bonds worked tirelessly to free others and to abolish the practice of slavery in this country. After the civil war ended they joined their voices with those of the other two women whose feast day they share, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Amelia Bloomer, in the long struggle to gain equal rights for women. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And Thursday is the feast day of Mary Magdalen. Although tradition is rich with stories about Mary Magdalen, we know very little about her actual life. Some argue that it was she from whom Jesus exorcised seven demons and some claim that it was she who wiped Jesus feet with her hair after anointing them with oil. The gospels record that she was among the followers of Jesus, and that she was present at his crucifixion and burial. It was Mary Magdalen who found the empty tomb and it was Mary Magdalen who was sent by the resurrected Jesus to tell the others what had happened, earning her the name of “apostle to the apostles.” Like the Mary in today’s gospel story, Mary Magdalen chose following Jesus, chose the role of disciple over the traditional roles her culture sanctioned for her. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The six women whose lives and ministries we celebrate this week are a diverse group but they have at least one thing in common. Like Mary in today’s gospel these women refused to be bound by the limits that society placed on them, instead choosing a different way. These women are wonderful icons of women’s discipleship and women’s ministry, but they are more than that. Their lives and work remind all of us, women and men alike, that as St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians, in Christ, we are no longer Jew or Greek, no longer slave or free, no longer male and female; we are neither gay nor straight, black nor white, young nor old, rich nor poor. In Christ we are not bound by human categories nor by the roles and restrictions society places on us. Rather we are called first and foremost as God’s beloved children. No matter what other roles or vocations we choose to take on, it is in this identity that we become most truly ourselves; it is in this identity that we are freest to love the One who made us, and to seek and serve Christ in all we meet.<span style=""> </span>And for that we give thanks to God.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AMEN<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-5589424714928218502010-07-03T20:39:00.000-04:002010-07-03T20:41:12.039-04:00A Sermon for Independence Day<p>The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost<br />July 4, 2010 Independence Day<o:p></o:p><br />Matthew 5:43-48<o:p></o:p></p><div class="MsoNormal"><p><i>"But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven. . . Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."<o:p></o:p></i></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>Today’s gospel, the one set in the lectionary for Independence Day, comes from one of my favorite parts of scripture—the Sermon on the Mount, that long discourse in Matthew’s gospel where Jesus lays out for his audience just what it means to be a disciple. For me, it is truly a handbook for being a Christian. Not everyone views it that way, of course. Figures as illustrious as Martin Luther have argued that the Sermon on the Mount puts discipleship out of the reach of ordinary people by setting an impossibly high standard for behavior, what with the “turn the other cheek” and “love your enemies” and “do not store up for yourselves treasure on earth.” I prefer to think of it as setting the bar high; as giving us an ideal to strive for: being perfect as our heavenly father is perfect. And although we could spend our time lamenting that of course we will <b><i>never</i></b><span style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> be perfect, or excusing ourselves by saying that since we will never be perfect we may as well not try, it seems to me to be more profitable to strive for becoming more like the God who created us than to dwell in the ways we fall short. <o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>There is no doubt that Jesus does set high standards for us. He begins the portion of the Sermon on the Mount from which today’s gospel is drawn by claiming that he has come not to abolish the law and the prophets but rather to fulfill them, and then he outlines a number of different ways that his followers are called to go beyond what the law would demand in their relationship with others. It’s easy, he concludes, to care about the folks we <b><i>like,</i></b><span style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> but if we are to enter into God’s kingdom, we must also care about those we </span><b><i>DON’T like</i></b><span style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">, and the ones who don’t like us. No small task, that. <o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>Jesus is not the only one to set high standards. The founders of our country did so as well, and as we celebrate our Independence Day we do well to recall just what those standards are:<o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p><i>We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>In a society in which the divine right of kings was largely unquestioned, in which there were clear social hierarchies and in which power was invested in those with means, these ideals were, like the injunctions in the Sermon on the Mount, almost impossibly out of reach. And the rich irony is, even the author of these words and the endorsers of the declaration from which they came applied them selectively. Most of the signers of the Declaration of Independence owned human slaves. It took almost 100 years before black men in America were accorded the right to vote and close to another 100 years before it was safe for them to do so. And although women asked for the vote in 1848, they didn’t receive it until 1920, almost 150 years after those words were enshrined in the founding document of our country. <o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>The founding fathers, you see, were defining “all men” as “people like me.” To be fair, they were no different from the major philosophers, theologians and scientists of the day in believing that white males were the epitome of creation, and white males were the group they defined as “all men.” The beauty of what they wrote, of the principle they established, however, is that it is expansive and inclusive enough to take in all of humanity, as we come to grasp that humanity is not limited by gender or race or orientation or any of the others human categories we use to make sense of the world. Just as we must care about those whom we don’t like, so too must we uphold the rights of those who may not be just like us. <o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>And though we’ve made great strides, we still struggle with both standards. We seek to include all of humanity under the umbrella of liberty and justice, even as we nit-pick and argue about how to do so. And we labor as well with loving those we really don’t like—loving our enemies, loving those who don’t see the world we do, loving those whose desires for us are not always good ones. <o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>But love them we must. Care about them we must. Because God does—God loves each and every one of us without prerequisite. God makes the rain to fall on the just and unjust alike. And our call is to be perfect as our heavenly father is perfect.<o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>We won’t make it, of course, not in this lifetime, just as this great nation will not live up to its ideals of liberty for all. But that’s no reason not to try, not to strive to be the people we are called to be. As a nation that means endeavoring to be true champions of justice and beacons of equality; it means welcoming the tired, huddled masses who yearn to breathe free; it means defending the rights of the least among us. <o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>And as followers of Jesus, children of God, it means aiming always to live into the image of God in which we were created; it means turning the other cheek when we’d rather fight back; caring for others who might not care for us in return; giving to other when we’d rather hoard for ourselves; it means loving God and our neighbor and putting that love ahead of <b><i>everything</i></b><span style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> else.<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>Easy? Not at all! But think about this: We do this for the God who created us to delight in us and who loved us enough to become incarnate among us, to live and die among us, to take on our pain and our suffering. We do this for the God who continues to love us beyond measure even we when we are utterly unlovable. We do this so that the Kingdom of God might flourish now and forever. Is that not reason enough to try?<o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p>Amen. <o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p><br /></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p><br /></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p><br /></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p><br /></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p><br /></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-43670044812761633002010-06-26T19:10:00.002-04:002010-06-26T22:19:13.649-04:00A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after PentecostThe Fifth Sunday after Pentecost<o:p></o:p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">June 27, 2010<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Luke 9:51-62<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8.5pt;"><i><span style="font-size:100%;">Breathe on me, Breath of God, and fill me with thy Spirit that I may serve only to glorify thee. Amen.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—<a name="18"></a> <o:p></o:p><br />I took the one less traveled by,<a name="19"></a> <o:p></o:p><br />And that has made all the difference<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I love this poem by Robert Frost; I love the way it evokes winding trails in golden Vermont autumns, and I love it for its sense of quiet reflection. But most of all I love it because it captures something of the essence of my own life, one traveled on paths off the beaten trail, sometimes lonely, sometimes scary, but almost always leading to unexpected adventures and unsought-for treasures. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem might also be an apt metaphor for the journey Jesus begins in today’s gospel. Jesus sets his face to Jerusalem, because Jerusalem is the city where prophets die, the place where his destiny will play out. The rest of the stories in Luke’s gospel about Jesus’ ministry are told in the context of this journey, which as it turns out is less geographical than theological. Luke’s readers don’t get a travelogue of the way to Jerusalem; instead they get a series of stories illustrating what it means to be a follower of Jesus, and what Jesus’ power means for the world. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Right off the bat we get a lesson in setting our priorities. Jesus encounters someone who says, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Perhaps Jesus’ BS detectors were on full-tilt; perhaps he was just wary of a promise that came so quickly, but he replied not with, “Sure, come along,” but rather with, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head," a not-so-gentle reminder that with discipleship comes a cost, in this case potential homelessness. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To another would-be disciple, Jesus says, “Follow me,” but the man says that he must first bury his father. In a culture where honoring one’s family is paramount, in religion where burial of the dead was a son’s duty, Jesus’ reply that even this obligation should not delay proclaiming the good news is startling.<span style=""> </span>And to the third who wants to say goodbye to his family before departing, Jesus cautions against looking back when one is seeking the kingdom of God. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We can only imagine the reactions of the would-be disciples Jesus admonishes this way. Did they slink away in embarrassment? Did that go along with Jesus leaving families behind? We don’t really know. But we can empathize with how they might have felt when Jesus reminded them that with discipleship comes sacrifice and responsibility, because I suspect that we often feel much the same way.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As Christians in the 21<sup>st</sup> century Jesus is inviting us to travel with him on the way less traveled by. Yes, that’s right. Despite our implicit assumption that we live in an at least quasi-Christian society, in a country where Christianity is the predominant religion, to truly follow Jesus, to take discipleship seriously, to live a gospel-centered life requires us to make choices that are counter-cultural, that are sometimes inconvenient, that cause us to reassess our priorities and our normal way of being. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Consider this: Almost 75% of American adults consider themselves to be Christians<a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4904724901001231935&postID=4367004481276163300#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[1]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a>. Yet no more than 40% (and perhaps as few as 20% depending on how you view the stats) attend church regularly, where “regularly” is defined as 3 out of every 4 Sundays.<span style=""> </span>Only 3-5% tithe, although 17% claim they do. Religious beliefs are far less important than personal experience in shaping political views. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So what does “being Christian” mean to the average person who claims that affiliation?<span style=""> </span>Is it like being “American?” An identity we are born with, the benefits of which we often just take for granted? Is it like being a Yankee fan? Something we claim to show we are on the right team, a team we are loyal to and root for but that requires little else from us? Is it just the box we check off because none of the others fit?<span style=""> </span><i><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What does it mean to be Christian? The bottom line seems clear: although we call ourselves Christian, our faith has relatively little influence on our “real life” short of perhaps prompting us to be “good.”<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The gospel, however, makes it abundantly clear that Jesus is asking for more Jesus is not interested in lip service; he is asking for commitment. Jesus is asking us to prioritize our lives consciously, to live intentionally, to put the demands of discipleship, of the gospel FIRST. <b><i>FIRST</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;">. Rather than letting the ever-shifting norms of popular cultures define what is important, Jesus asks us to make decisions about how we spend our time and our resources in light of our faith, our beliefs, our spiritual values. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We need to ask ourselves what is really important. What do we want to do with this “one wild and precious life<a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4904724901001231935&postID=4367004481276163300#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[2]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a>” God has given to each of us? Are we willing to say no to some things that are good and desirable (like sleeping in on Sunday, a soccer game, a cruise or a trip to Disney) in order to say yes to things that are more important for ourselves and our children, more central to God’s kingdom (like regular church attendance, sacrificial giving, real Christian formation, caring for the poor and oppressed)? <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We need to ask these questions of ourselves as individuals and as a parish. As difficult as it is, our spiritual lives depend on it. One of the most difficult areas to prioritize this way is our money, but over the next few months as we gear up for our fall stewardship campaign, I will be inviting you to do just that. We live in uncertain times, and it is easy, understandable to feel that we must protect our resources, perhaps cut our spending. Often that means that we put giving to the church at the bottom of the list. But is that what God is calling us to do? Is that the priority Jesus sets for us when he says, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth” or “where your heart is there your treasure will also be” or “from everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required?”<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">These are not easy questions to address, and in the coming months I hope that we will take time to talk about them in more depth. But we need to do so in light of Jesus’ message in today’s gospel: we must get our priorities straight if we are to be disciples of Jesus. And we must ask ourselves this:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Are we willing to go with Jesus down the road less traveled?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AMEN<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <div style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br /><hr size="1" width="33%" align="left"> <!--[endif]--> <div style="" id="ftn1"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4904724901001231935&postID=4367004481276163300#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[1]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a> The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life</p> </div> <div style="" id="ftn2"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4904724901001231935&postID=4367004481276163300#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[2]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Mary Oliver</p> </div> </div> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-5174981624499703452010-05-29T19:28:00.001-04:002010-05-29T19:31:11.525-04:00A Sermon for Trinity Sunday<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Trinity Sunday<br />May 30, 2010</span><i><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size:85%;">Breathe on me, Breath of God, and fill me with thy Spirit that I may serve only to glorify thee.</span><span style=";font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Amen.</span><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Most of you know that I am one of that increasingly rare breed, a “cradle” Episcopalian. I like to say that the prayer book is in my bones, the words of the Eucharist in my DNA. So it might surprise you to know that much of my pondering about today’s theme, the Trinity, was triggered not by what I learned in Sunday School, or by sermons I heard, but rather by conversations I have had with my Jewish seminarian friends.<span style=""> </span>I met these friends, four women studying to become rabbis at the time I was studying for the priesthood, in the crucible we know as “CPE”—clinical pastoral education—interning as hospital chaplains not only to learn the ins and outs of working with the sick and the recovering and the dying, but also to manage group dynamics, figure out healthy boundaries, practice taking on pastoral authority, and grapple with real-life theological issues. It was an intense experience.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Given that intensity, perhaps it is no wonder that it led to some deep theological discussions, as our own faith, our own understanding of how God worked in the world was tested on a daily basis by the tragic realities of life. And so we probed our views of prayer and our beliefs about evil in the world and why bad things happen, and who this God we believed in was anyway. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was in one of these discussions that I really began to grapple with the whole notion of the Trinity. It wasn’t something new to me—how many times must I have recited the Nicene Creed at that point, declaring my belief in God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit? How many times had I crossed myself at those words, or prayed to God in the name of the Son through the power of the Spirit? But when pushed by my Jewish colleagues to talk about the Trinity, I realized how ill equipped I was to do so. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We often argued, you see, about whether we shared the same God; on one level it seemed that we did: the creator, the holy one who covenanted with a people, led them out of Egypt, delivered them at the Red Sea, and took them to the promised land where their fortunes ebbed and flowed. But then would come the questions. “If you believe in <b><i>one</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;"> God,” my friends would ask, “then how can you say Jesus was God?” And even if </span><b><i>Jesus</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;"> is God, what about this whole “Holy Spirit” thing?<span style=""> </span>How can SHE be God, too? How can you have three Gods if you believe in the One God?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">At this point, what I always wanted to do was to throw up my hands and declare, “It’s a mystery!” which is, of course true and at the same time, as my formerly Catholic friends who grew up attending parochial school where the nuns regularly used that line remind me, is a cop-out. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My Jewish friends, however, asked a very good question—how can God—the One and Eternal Living God—be both one and three? How can we speak of Jesus as being God’s son if God and Jesus are one being?<span style=""> </span>And how can we understand the Holy Spirit to be sent by Jesus when Jesus and the Holy Spirit are GOD? </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Noted preacher Barbara Brown Taylor likens this dilemma to a Buddhist koan.<span style=""> </span>A koan, for those of you unfamiliar with Buddhism, is a paradoxical riddle or anecdote used to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical reasoning, and to provoke intuition and enlightenment. One famous Zen koan asks, "Two hands clap and there is a sound; what is the sound of one hand?" Another queries, “What was the appearance of your face before your parents were born?”<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Koans, truth be told, aren’t exclusive to Buddhism. We Christians have our own—right in the gospels. When Jesus says things like, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it,” (Matthew 10:39) or when he teaches with a parable, he is employing the same logic-busting, mind stretching language.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And maybe it is a matter of language. Maybe our language is inadequate for us to really express the meaning of the Trinity. Oh, we’ve tried. Ever since the fourth century when the Council of Nicea was called to settle disputes about the nature of Jesus, church fathers and theologians have argued about how to define, delineate, articulate this notion of one God in three, three unified in one. And they’ve been quick to label definitions or words that don’t suit them as “heresies.” I’m quite sure that whenever I try to wax eloquent about the Trinity I commit at least one of those heresies! <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To get around this problem we resort to analogies: The Trinity is like a shamrock: three leaves making up one whole; the Trinity is like H<sub>2</sub>O, which we experience as water, ice and steam; the Trinity is like a Three Musketeers Bar: three for one and one for three. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">20<sup>th</sup> century theologian and priest Robert Farrar Capon once described human attempts to explain the Trinity as like an oyster trying to describe a ballerina; we just don’t have the words, the concepts, the mental capacity to describe something so beautiful, to grasp the meaning of something as wondrous as the nature of God—and that is what the Trinity is about, isn’t it?<span style=""> </span>The nature of God, the way God manifests Godself in the world, the ways God comes to us and acts in our lives? The way God relates to us, God’s human children?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And therein is the missing piece of all our analogies: relationship. For just as much as the Trinity is about how God relates to us it is even more about how God relates to Godself. We acknowledge this in the Nicene Creed when we say that Jesus was begotten by the Father and that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father. But even that falls short for 21<sup>st</sup> century Christians, these notions of “begot” and proceed. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It is here that I think we can profitably borrow from a notion found in the Orthodox Church. They use the word <b><i>perichoresis</i></b><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal;">, which literally means<span style=""> </span>“dancing around,” to describe the Trinity as God in relationship. The Holy Spirit, the Father and the Son are united in an exquisite divine dance.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m not sure that imagining the Trinity as the Father, Son and Holy Spirit moving gracefully in a Viennese waltz helps me to UNDERSTAND the Trinity any better, but it sure does help me appreciate it. God in a divine dance amongst the heavens, circling the stars, swooping amongst the galaxies all the while enfolding us, God’s children into that Trinitarian embrace. Creator, redeemer and sanctifier moving in and through us bringing us into step. God, Word, and Wisdom filling us and calling us into relationship with the Almighty. It takes my breath away. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the end, I still can’t explain the Trinity, how One God is Three and Three are One; it will remain a koan, a paradox, a mystery flirting with comprehension. Nonetheless I know we can be drawn into that wonderful dance, that relationship in and with God, and we can be moved by that power of the One who made us, redeemed and calls us to holiness.<span style=""> </span>AMEN</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:78%;">Inspiration and images drawn from “Three Hands Clapping,” in Barbara Brown Taylor, <i>Home by Another Way,</i></span><span style="font-size:78%;"> Cowley, 1999.</span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-64071827554721774672010-03-20T20:08:00.005-04:002010-03-20T20:14:04.439-04:00A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent<span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span>5 Lent March 21, 2010<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">John 12:1-8<i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style="font-family: arial;">Almighty God, the breeze of your love and grace is ever blowing; may our hearts be lifted by that breeze, and may it inspire these words and those who hear them. Amen</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">One of my favorite Christmas stories is O. Henry’s story, <i>The Gift of the Magi</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">. You probably remember how it goes: The characters are a young couple…deeply in love, and very poor.<span style=""> </span>Christmas is coming and each of them wants very badly to give a gift to the one they love…something special, something that will fulfill the other’s deepest longings. Of course, this couple doesn’t have much money, but they do have two things of inestimable value:<span style=""> </span>her long, thick luxurious hair which falls below her knees, and his gold pocket watch, inherited from his father and grandfather.<span style=""> </span>You know what happens—she decides to sell her hair to buy him a beautiful chain for his watch, only to find out that he has sold his watch to buy her combs to hold her long, thick hair.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It’s a story rich in irony, with a bit of pathos thrown in; it’s a story too that might have us shaking our heads over the impetuousness of young love, the foolishness of their choices, the wastefulness of it all. But you know, as foolish as those choices might have been, they also represent a generosity of spirit, an extravagance of selfless love and the kind of beyond measure, and an example of truly sacrificial giving. In their pouring out of love for the other, each demonstrated a willingness to give up the only thing of value they possessed—each made the sacrifice for the other.<span style=""> </span>It’s a great story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">You might be wondering why I am telling a Christmas story during Lent. No I haven’t lost track of time, or taken leave of my senses. I’m telling this story because I think it shares a theme with today’s gospel.<span style=""> </span>Like the young couple in O. Henry’s story, Mary of Bethany, moved by her love for Jesus, does something that on the surface seems senseless and wasteful, but that in reality embodies the generosity of spirit and willingness to give sacrificially in service of others modeled for us by Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Today’s gospel finds Jesus in Bethany, the village that is home to Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha.<span style=""> </span>Jesus has, of course, been here before -- the last time he visited he raised Lazarus from the dead, an action that not gave further evidence of his power and authority among his followers but also helped to set the stage for his upcoming arrest, stoking the ire of the authorities who feared that power and authority. Now, six days before the Passover and about to go on to Jerusalem, Jesus returns to Lazarus’ home, where Lazarus, Martha, and Mary host a dinner for Jesus and the disciples who are with him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Dining customs in the first century Mediterranean were different from what we are accustomed to. Instead of sitting upright with feet firmly planted on the floor, people reclined at the table.<span style=""> </span>One unintended consequence of this was that one’s feet might be in close proximity to the head of others reclining near them. And because streets and roads were dusty, and dirty, and often reeked of raw sewage, washing the feet of guests when they arrived was more than just a gesture of hospitality—it was a necessity, and it was a job generally reserved for a servant, not a host. So what comes next was extraordinary on a number of levels. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Mary, perhaps not satisfied by the mere washing of Jesus’ feet, knelt and anointed them, using a pound of expensive perfume oil, made from nard, lavishing the oil onto his feet, filling the air with the sweet scent of the precious oil, and then wiping his feet with her hair. With this one simple act, Mary violated all sorts of social boundaries.<span style=""> </span>She used expensive oil—worth a year’s wages by some accounting—an extravagant waste by most standards.<span style=""> </span>She let down her hair in public—a social taboo for Jewish women.<span style=""> </span>And she anointed not Jesus’ head—the part of the body we might expect to be anointed—but his feet.<span style=""> </span>Why would she do such a thing?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Anointing was known in two contexts in Mary’s world. It was an act often associated with royalty—oil was poured on the heads of kings, an anointing that signified their authority.<span style=""> </span>The term “christos” in Greek, or “messiah” in Hebrew connotes one who has been anointed, set apart for some special purpose. Anointing was also something done to bodies after death, part of the ritual done to prepare them for burial and an act carried out with the respect. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In a way, Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet reflects both these practices.<span style=""> </span>Mary had already implicitly signified that she recognized Jesus as the Messiah when he came to raise Lazarus.<span style=""> </span>Her anointing of his feet reinforces that recognition. But even more than that, in anointing Jesus’ feet, Mary symbolically foreshadows the anointing of his body that would normally take place before it would be placed in the tomb—an anointing that the body of Jesus actually never receives. Mary is pouring out her love for <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Jesus now because on some level she realizes that he will not be with her later. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Mary symbolically pours out her love for Jesus when she pours the precious oil on his feet--an extravagant gesture, and one that some like Judas would say was wasteful.<span style=""> </span>Wouldn’t it have been better to use the money to help the poor?<span style=""> </span>Or to save the oil for a more appropriate occasion? But Mary’s action, just like the gifts of the young couple in O. Henry’s story, is extraordinary not because of its monetary value, but because it signifies a willingness to make a sacrifice that on the surface seems beyond reason—a sacrifice motivated by pure love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In anointing Jesus’ feet Mary also anticipates what Jesus will do on the night before he is arrested, when he humbly kneels to wash the feet of his disciples, and then commands the twelve that they should do likewise. Jesus’ act of humble servanthood in the washing of his disciples’ feet, like Mary’s act of anointing his feet, takes place in the shadow of the certainty of his death—a death that will be the ultimate sacrifice.<span style=""> </span>Jesus’ act, like Mary’s, is an outpouring of selfless love, an expression of love’s triumph over death. And this act of selfless love, of humble servanthood, of sacrificial giving becomes the model for the disciples to follow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Perhaps it is here that Mary’s act takes on its greatest significance. Mary is not one of the “official disciples”—she is a female, after all.<span style=""> </span>She appears only twice in this gospel—we won’t meet her again after Jesus leaves Bethany and goes on to Jerusalem.<span style=""> </span>But in this single act of anointing Jesus’ feet, Mary embodies what discipleship means in John’s gospel. She recognizes Jesus for who he is and she kneels in service. She acts spontaneously, without asking questions, without the encouragement that the other disciples will receive, and she gives with thought of what it might cost her. Mary loves selflessly, and she acts generously, extravagantly, sacrificially out of that love. She personifies the values Jesus has preached and taught and lived.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">As we approach this final week of Lent, we might do well to ask ourselves how we might be called to be more like Mary. Are we called to love more extravagantly? To act more generously?<span style=""> </span>To give more sacrificially? Can we put aside our own self-interest, our petty squabbles, our selfish wants and instead live a life that is centered on loving God and on acting on that love in our daily lives? And if we were to do so, what might it mean for our families, for ourselves, for our parish, for the world? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:16pt;" ><span style="font-size:85%;">AMEN</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-10565113682981171222010-02-27T18:05:00.003-05:002010-02-27T18:11:01.799-05:00Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent<span style="font-size:100%;">The Second Sunday in Lent</span><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />February 28, 2010<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />Luke 13:31-35<o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />The Hen roosted high on her perch;</span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><br />Hungry Fox down below, on the search,</span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><br />Coaxed her hard to descend</span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><br />She replied, "Most dear friend!</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />I feel more secure on my perch.”</span><br /> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style=""> </span><span style="font-size:85%;">~</span><i><span style="font-size:85%;">Baby's Own Aesop (1887)</span><o:p></o:p></i><br /><br />I suspect that we’re all familiar with the image of a fox in a henhouse. Folklore is full of stories of sly and cunning foxes trying to outwit supposedly simpler creatures like hens in order to make a good feast of them. I have a vivid memory of a story that my grandmother used to read to me of a fox who used all his wiles to convince a mother hen to let him into her house, and then captured the hen and her chicks and carted them off in a big sack so that he might dine on them in the comfort of his own cozy den. The mother hen was far too clever for the crafty fox, however, and when he stopped to nap on his way home, she used her sewing scissors (in a testimony to her cleverness, her sewing kit was tucked into her feathers) to release her family from captivity, and with the help of her children, filled his sack with river rocks and sewed it back up so that he would notice their escape, proving once again that even the wily fox could be outsmarted.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In today’s gospel we hear Jesus refer to Herod as “that fox” “Fox” was an apt descriptor for Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great, and ruler of the regions of Galilee and Perea. This Herod, you might recall, divorced his wife to marry his brother’s widow, and had John the Baptist arrested and later beheaded when John condemned him for that marriage. Herod had felt threatened by John, not only because of the accusations of adultery, of breaking Jewish law, but also because John was so influential among the people that Herod feared he might incite revolution. And according the gospels, Herod Antipas was both fascinated by and fearful of Jesus, the itinerant preacher he heard so much about, and it is entirely likely that Herod did wish Jesus dead and out of the way. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Jesus, however, is not deterred by the threat of that fox, Herod. Jesus is on a mission, and he has set his face towards Jerusalem—Jerusalem, the dwelling place of God; Jerusalem, the place where Isaiah tells us that God’s glory shall be revealed (Isaiah 24:23); Jerusalem, the place where the prophet Micah reminds us that God is betrayed by those who hate the good and love what is evil (Micah 3:2). Nothing that happens in Jerusalem is insignificant. When Jerusalem obeys God, the world spins peacefully on its axis. When Jerusalem ignores God, the whole planet wobbles, and now Jesus is on his way there to fulfill his destiny.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>“Jerusalem, Jerusalem,”</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> Jesus laments,<i> “the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">What a poignant image! Jesus doesn’t use the metaphor of a fierce mother lion protecting her cubs, nor even that of an eagle with sharp beak and talons to drive away the enemy; instead he uses the image of a mother hen, a relatively small and gentle creature who in her ferocious desire to protect her young can only draw them close to her, gathering them under the mantle of her wings, covering them with the protective blanket of her love. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Modern day Christians sometimes like to portray Jesus as a mighty warrior, to describe his power in military terms, but to me, this image of a mother hen protecting her brood speaks of a power far greater, far deeper than any power that comes in a display of force.<span style=""> </span>When Jesus uses this metaphor of a mother hen it seems to perfectly captures the essence of the power he exuded, a power lived out in the love he preached and taught and lived—a love that cannot coerce but rather invites, a love that does not back down in the face of greater physical might, a love that crosses all human boundaries and reaches out to the poor, the outcast, the sick, and the sinner.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">As it turns out, Herod is not the only fox loose in Jerusalem, no indeed. Jerusalem is full of foxes, religious leaders, government officials, common folk, even a disciple who, seduced by some secular vision of power and might, fear, the itinerant preacher and healer who has come into their midst, fear him enough that like the proverbial fox in the henhouse, they act to betray him and have him crucified before he can stir up any REAL trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">But it’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? Just like in the story my grandmother told me about the hen who helped her children escape, the love of the mother hen who would gather the children of Jerusalem—the people of God—under her wings wins the day.<span style=""> </span>The foxes loose in Jerusalem were “outfoxed” by Jesus whose powerful love could not be stilled by the cross, could not be quenched by earthly powers, could not be contained by death; a powerful love that is still very present and very real in the world today. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In this season of Lent, it might be worthwhile for us to keep in mind the notion of the fox and the hen. Foxes are crafty and seductive and they seek to lure us away from the care of the One who loves us. So who or what are the foxes in our own lives? Could they be the lure of material goods—the ever bigger and better TV, the more powerful computer, the sleeker car—or the promise of power?<span style=""> </span>What about greed—not just that appetite for more, more, more, but the greed that makes us reluctant to share of the abundance we already have?<span style=""> </span>Could our fox wear the guise of sloth, or mere laziness, the inertia that keeps us from doing even things we claim to care deeply about?<span style=""> </span>Or perhaps our fox has slipped in as the urge to gossip, the tendency to think the worst of others, thoughtlessness, or even cruelty?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">As we look for the foxes who might have crept into our lives, we might also recall the powerful and unassuming loved of the One who laments for his beloved who have gone astray, the One who would gather his lost children to him as a mother hen gathers her brood under her wings. And we might recall that the cunning fox does not always win the day. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">AMEN<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-65518853909845111642010-02-20T22:50:00.002-05:002010-02-20T22:57:16.360-05:00<span style="font-size:100%;">The First Sunday in Lent<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >February 21, 2010<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Luke 4:1-13<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><i>Lord, make me a hollow reed so that Your Voice might be heard by all who hear these words. Amen. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >Do you know how it feels when you’re just starting out on a vacation?<span style=""> </span>The planning is done, the laundry is finished, the packing is taken care of, the dog is boarded, the mail is stopped, the lights are off, the doors are locked, and finally you are on your way, filled with sweet anticipation. That’s sort of where we are now in our church year as we enter into our Lenten journey: Epiphany’s passed, the palms are burned, the ashes smudged on our foreheads to remind us of our common humanity, and our shared mortality, and we’ve set our faces towards Jerusalem, pledging to keep a holy Lent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >Only, only that anticipation we feel? It may not be so sweet. It may in fact be tinged with a bit of dread, a sense of “let’s hurry up and get this over with.”<span style=""> </span>We’ve described Lent as a long, dark journey, a time of sorrow and repentance, a time for taking up a discipline to help us turn back to God, and it may feel like it’s going to be a looonng six weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >But as we undertake our Lenten journey, it’s a good time to add a cautionary note, a reminder that may lighten those that Lenten anxiety that sometimes grips us. For despite our emphasis on penitence and on discipline, we need to remember Lent is not about feeling guilty or inadequate, and it’s not about being able to stick to some sort of self-deprivation just to prove to ourselves, or to others, that we can. Instead, as somber as it is, Lent—and all those things we undertake during Lent—should be a means of turning back to God, renewing our faith, remembering God’s abiding and ever-present for love for us, and taking up the hard work of discipleship. And our readings during Lent help us with this task. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >On the first Sunday in Lent each year we hear the story of Jesus’ time in the wilderness and this year we hear Luke’s version.<span style=""> </span>Just as Matthew and Mark do, Luke tells us that Jesus goes into the wilderness for forty days and while he is there he is tempted by the evil one, the one we call the devil.<span style=""> </span>“Tempted” is the word used in most translations, but really, “tested” may better convey what Jesus experienced. We’re tempted by the candy bars merchandisers skillfully place by the check out counters, by the pull of our favorite clothing store in the mall, or by the lure of the next new electronic gadget—we all understand that kind of temptation, but what the devil dangled in front of Jesus –well, let’s just say the stakes were considerably higher. All three of the tests the devil presented to Jesus ultimately had to do with what kind of a Son of God, what kind of a messiah he would be; all three of them had to do with earthly power and might, all three had to do with the how Jesus would live into the vocation given him at his baptism. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >The first temptation has to do with food. After 40 days of fasting, Jesus is near starvation. The very thought of bread must have filled him with overwhelming desire. But rather than succumbing, rather than turning the stones into bread, Jesus recalls how God provided manna for the people of Israel as they wandered in the wilderness to demonstrate that humans do not live by bread alone,. Next the devil offers Jesus power and dominion over all the nations of the earth, if only he will worship the evil one—and wouldn’t that be a good thing, if Jesus were in charge instead of the Romans? But again recalling the travails of his ancestors,<span style=""> </span>Jesus responds with the words Moses spoke to the people of Israel as they were about to enter the Promised Land, “Worship the Lord, your God, and serve him” for it is from the Lord that all has come, and to whom all power belongs. Finally the devil takes Jesus to the top of the Temple, and urges him to jump off, for if he is truly the son of God a thousand angels would surely rush in to save him. One more time Jesus returns to the story of the Israelites about to enter their new home and repeats Moses’ words to them, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >Jesus resists the temptations set in front of him by the devil; he “passes” the tests by resisting the urgings of the evil one to turn away from God, to take for himself power and might, and to test, to push the limits of his Father’s love and care. Ultimately, in passing up these temptations, Jesus has demonstrated once and for all his absolute reliance on the trustworthiness of God’s love. Jesus didn’t need the presence of thousands of angels rushing him to save him in midair to demonstrate the power of God. Filled by the power of the Spirit in baptism, Jesus trusted in the unassailable care and presence of God for all, the same care and presence of God that carried all the way through to the resurrection, Christ’s victory over death and human sin, the ultimate show of God’s power and love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >We often hear the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness as a model for us in resisting the temptations of our world, temptations that can take us away from God and God’s will for us—and it can surely serve as such a model. But I think the message of this story is even larger than that, even more powerful than that. Just as Jesus trusted completely and without reservation in the power and goodness of God, just as he trusted completely and without reservation in God’s care and provision without the need to test the limits of that care and provision, so too can we trust in God’s power, God’s love, God’s provision for us. We do not need to test God’s love for us; we can rest assured that even when we cannot see it, even when we cannot feel it, it is there. We do not have to earn it, we do not have to “deserve” it; it is there. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" >As we move through Lent, as we walk that road towards the cross with Jesus, as we seek to reorient ourselves towards God through our Lenten disciplines, may we rest securely in the assurance of God’s unassailable love and care for us, now and for ever. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:16pt;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Amen. </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:16pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-60217082819512911282010-02-13T20:42:00.004-05:002010-02-13T20:54:43.975-05:00Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0ms8PuZ53HF_ynvGXBjgsQZzNX7k2CunikFQ9NDri3V0AVhB-OZNvRKxdXyb_WankvGL4aheYxRKrGmPwPgC3OPRZBByPRsJRv2Xd9gEOdejt82kzJ1TdozFScuw4x3wGKSz1GjhT8V3/s1600-h/duccio+transfig"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0ms8PuZ53HF_ynvGXBjgsQZzNX7k2CunikFQ9NDri3V0AVhB-OZNvRKxdXyb_WankvGL4aheYxRKrGmPwPgC3OPRZBByPRsJRv2Xd9gEOdejt82kzJ1TdozFScuw4x3wGKSz1GjhT8V3/s200/duccio+transfig" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437911123813005570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">The Last Sunday after the Epiphany</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Exodus 34:29-35<o:p></o:p><br />Luke 9:28-36<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Lord, make me a hollow reed so that Your Voice might be heard by all who hear these words. Amen. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In our readings today, this last Sunday in the season of Epiphany, we encounter not one, but two characters being “transfigured.”<span style=""> </span>“Transfiguration” is not a word that is in our everyday vocabulary—but if you’ve read any of the Harry Potter novels, you’ll be familiar with the concept.<span style=""> </span>In the magical world of witches and wizards, the ability to transfigure—to change oneself into another creature—is one of the many magic skills students are taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s clearly a useful skill, allowing one to travel about undetected, as Professor McGonagall does when she becomes a cat, or to hide from one’s enemies, as Harry’s godfather Sirius Black does, taking the form of a big shaggy dog when he escapes from Azkaban, the wizarding prison, and as the more nefarious Peter Pettigrew does as a rat, hiding out from his former master, the evil Lord Voldemort. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">You might have noticed that in all the examples I’ve given, transfiguration allows one to be less obvious, to go unnoticed. But the kind of transfiguration that Moses and Jesus undergo is quite different—their appearance changes, to be sure, but rather than making them less conspicuous, helping them to blend in, or to get by undetected, their transfiguration – with glowing white robes and luminous faces – puts them right in the spotlight. Rather than hiding their true identities, the transfigurations of Moses and Jesus reveal them as who they are—prophet and liberator on the one hand; messiah, son of God on the other, and they serve as vivid reminders of God’s enduring presence in the world. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Moses, you will recall, has led the Israelites out of Egypt, out of slavery, into freedom—and right into the wilderness, where they must find their way, trusting in God to lead them to the “Promised Land.” The Israelites aren’t used to such freedom; it’s scary, and despite repeated assurances from Moses—and indeed, signs from God—they whine and complain every step of the way.<span style=""> </span>When Moses ascends the mountain to consult with God on how to handle this recalcitrant people, he stay a little too long to suit the people, who, sure that they are being abandoned, quickly forge themselves a new “god”—a golden calf. When Moses, coming down with the stone tablets engraved by God, sees this idol he is so enraged that he drops the tablets and they shatter. It’s not just Moses who is angry, of course—God is angry, too, but Moses goes up the mountain again and intercedes, convincing God to give the Israelites yet one more chance. It is during this encounter that Moses is transfigured, and when he comes down, his face is shining so brightly that he must put a veil on it because the Israelites cannot bear to look at him. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">You might have noticed that when Moses is transfigured, it is not during his first encounter with God. There is little doubt that each and every meeting with God, from the burning bush forward, changed Moses in some way, but this change was different, When Moses’ face was transfigured, changed so that his visage was so bright and shining that the people feared to look at him—well, that was more than Moses’ own personal transfiguration; instead, this was a sign to the people that God was still with them, and each and every time they gazed at Moses’ face alight with the glory of God, they would be reminded of that yet again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The story of Jesus’ transfiguration in many way parallels that of Moses. Jesus, accompanied by Peter, James and John, climbs up a mountain to get away from the crowds that are always with him, to rest and to pray.<span style=""> </span>As Jesus prays, his whole appearance begins to change – his clothes become a dazzling white, and his face begins to shine like the sun. And if that weren’t enough, Moses and Elijah appear beside him, and the three engage in a spirited discussion of what will come next for Jesus. Peter, James, and John, sleep-deprived as always and struggling to stay awake, don’t know what to make of this, and their wonderment and confusion must’ve only increased when the voice of God thundered from behind a cloud, “This is my son…listen to him.”<span style=""> </span>When they came down from the mountain, they told no one of their experience, but surely as Mary did earlier, they must have pondered it in their hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">As it was for Moses, the timing of Jesus’ transfiguration was not accidental.<span style=""> </span>Jesus’ ministry is drawing to a close, and he has begun to warn the disciples about what is to come, warn them that they, too, must be prepared to take up the cross. Peter has declared Jesus to be the messiah, the chosen one, but Jesus must have known that the disciples really didn’t understand who he was and what they would have to face. And so, witnessing the transfiguration of Jesus, seeing him reflect the glory and majesty of God, hearing God proclaim him as his son would’ve been for them like seeing Moses’ shining face was for the Israelites, a potent reminder of God’s on-going presence in their lives, a reminder that would become evermore important as they traveled with Jesus to Jerusalem and the cross. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The placement of these readings in our lectionary is not accidental, either. On Wednesday we’ll begin our long passage through Lent, retracing that road to the cross. Even though we have the assurance of the resurrection, the promise of Easter, this can be a<span style=""> </span>dark, lonely and painful journey. We are asked to examine our lives, our hearts, our consciences; we’re asked to face up to our faults, to seek forgiveness, to turn away from those things that separate us from God and from being our best selves. We are asked to acknowledge not only Jesus’ suffering, but also our own and the world’s so that we may be truly prepared to enter into the joy of the resurrection at Easter.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Today’s readings remind us, as we undertake our Lenten journey, of the majesty and the glory of the God who created us, and of the promise of the God who does not, will not –has not ever—leave us on our own.<span style=""> </span>Just as Moses’ shining face was a reminder to the Israelites that God will not abandon his people, no matter how difficult those people are, so too does it reassure us of God’s on-going presence in our lives. And just as Jesus’ transformation in the presence of Moses and Elijah proclaimed him as the messiah, the chosen one of God, so too does it affirm for us, that in Jesus, God’s promise to be with us always reaches its fulfillment.<span style=""> </span>In that promise we can rest secure, knowing that we are held safely in God’s embrace, no matter how long or how hard the journey.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">AMEN<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-14878868858518824822010-01-23T15:22:00.000-05:002010-01-23T15:24:06.128-05:00Sermon for Epiphany 3, January 24, 2010Third Sunday after the Epiphany<br />January 24, 2010<o:p></o:p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Luke 4:14-21 <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Almighty God, may your Word be our light in the darkness, and may these words help to spread that light in the world. Amen.</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Over the course of the last few weeks, we’ve focused on the season of Epiphany as a time of<span style=""> </span>‘revelation’ and how, during this season, Jesus is being ‘revealed’ to the world in Luke’s gospel.<span style=""> </span>Luke is, of course, a consummate story teller, and in his gospel, he spins out a tale that takes us from the annunciation of Mary’s pregnancy through the birth in Bethlehem, the visit from the shepherds, the presentation of the infant at the Temple, Jesus’ lingering at the Temple as a preadolescent, his baptism, and now to this story, about the beginning of his ministry. At each point in the story, something about Jesus’ identity, his power and authority in the world, and his vocation as the messiah, the anointed one has been revealed, and this week, as Jesus preaches in the synagogue, we hear Jesus himself not only affirm that identity but also reveal his mission statement.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Luke’s narrative has Jesus’ ministry start out on a different footing that it did last week in John’s account. John places a great deal of emphasis on the ‘signs’ performed by Jesus, and he uses the story of Jesus turning the water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana, the first of these signs, as a way of revealing Jesus’ power and authority in the world.<span style=""> </span>But when we find Jesus in the synagogue today, in Luke’s telling of the story, he is fresh out of the desert where the Spirit led him after his baptism. Jesus has resisted the temptations Satan placed in front of him there, and he’s preached in a few synagogues along the way with favorable reviews, but he has yet to call a disciple, he has yet to perform a miracle; he is still largely unknown among the people when he returns to his hometown of Nazareth. On the Sabbath, like any faithful Jewish man, he goes to the synagogue for prayer, and there he stands to reads Torah, selecting passages from the prophet Isaiah. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>because he has anointed me <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>to bring good news to the poor. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>and recovery of sight to the blind, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>to let the oppressed go free, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >And then, returning to his seat he says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >Wow. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >I expect that it took a while for the full impact of what Jesus had just said to those gathered to sink in. And as we’ll hear in next week’s gospel, the reaction of the congregation was not entirely positive. But in fact, the congregation of this small synagogue in Nazareth, full of men and boys Jesus had grown up with, played with, studied and worked with, were the first to hear the proclamation of Jesus’ own mission statement. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >Because that’s what it was, really. We’re accustomed to the whole notion of “mission statements” these days---every church and civic organization and corporation has one: a vision, a set of guiding principles that when well done captures the essence of what the group is about. We have a mission statement here at Trinity—it’s on our web page, and over the next year or so we will likely be revisiting it.<span style=""> </span>I doubt, however, that the phrase “mission statement” was in the lexicon of Jesus or his audience.<span style=""> </span>But when Jesus stood and read the prophecy from Isaiah, and then proclaimed that prophecy to be fulfilled in their hearing, he was claiming his identity and boldly staking out his mission in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me.”<span style=""> </span>At Jesus’ baptism, Luke tells us, the Spirit descended on Jesus in the form of a dove. That same Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness, and filled him when he returned to Galilee. And now, using the words of the prophet Isaiah, he asserts that he is full of the spirit because the Lord has anointed him. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >We should not miss the import of those words. To be anointed was not such an unusual thing—kings were anointed, others in special positions were anointed—but Jesus is laying claim to a special anointing—by the Lord—an anointing that sets him aside as the chosen one, the one, the longed for hope of the Jewish people—the messiah.<span style=""> </span>But it gets even better.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>…he has anointed me <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>to bring good news to the poor. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>and recovery of sight to the blind, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>to let the oppressed go free, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i>to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><i><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >Because we are familiar with the themes of Jesus’ preaching, we know the audiences to whom he preached, we are perhaps not as shocked by this claim as were those who first heard it.<span style=""> </span>Isaiah of course wrote it in the context of the Babylonian exile, speaking of an Israelite people who had been oppressed and held captive. But when Jesus proclaims it as his mission, he is focusing on those not just politically held captive by the Roman Empire, but also on those held captive in poverty, in disease, in the oppression that comes in a social system weighted in favor of the wealthy. Jesus is foreshadowing a ministry in which he reaches out to the poor, the excluded, the outcast, and he’s foreshadowing his call to his followers to do likewise. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >We’re more comfortable with the notion of “mission statement” than Jesus’ audience in the synagogue that day, but likely we we’re just as uncomfortable having those words directed to us as they were. Because when we take those words seriously, when we recognize Jesus’ mission statement as our own, it can rattle us to our very roots. We are called, as I say here almost every week, to love God, and to love our neighbor, but we often have a limited vision of who that neighbor is and what that love means. Jesus reminds us that we’re called to bring good news—the gospel with all it entails---not just to the neighbors who are like us, but also to the poor—the poor in spirit, and the poor in fact. We are called to not only bring that good news, but also to live it, to be forces of liberation in the world—liberation from poverty and disease and oppression of all sorts. And that’s a tall order. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >In just a little while we’ll recess to the parish hall for our annual meeting. The temptation is great to view this meeting as something just to get over with, a necessary but not particularly exciting piece of business to take care of. And there certainly are those aspects of it. But I invite you this year to come to this meeting not only to do the required business, not only to review the year gone by, but also to look to the year ahead. We are undertaking a new thing here, you and I, in our ministry together at Trinity. We have many challenges and many opportunities ahead of us in the months and years to come. What better place to start than with Jesus’ very own mission statement?<span style=""> </span>How can we use that statement to shape our own ministry here and out in the world, where we are, in the words of St. Paul, Christ’s very own body? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:11pt;" >Amen<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-67951975778671655932010-01-16T15:25:00.000-05:002010-01-23T15:29:57.036-05:002 Epiphany January 17, 2010The Second Sunday after the Epiphany<o:p></o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />January 27, 2010<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />John<span style=""> </span>2:1-11<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Almighty God, may your Word be our light in the darkness, and may these words help to spread that light in the world. Amen.</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:16pt;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Our gospel this morning is perhaps one of the best know stories about Jesus, a story that continues with our Epiphany theme of revelation—this time the revelation of God’s power and authority working in Jesus.<span style=""> </span>Sometime shortly after his baptism and after calling his first disciples, we find Jesus attending a wedding in Cana—an ordinary event, to be sure but also a joyful and celebratory one. At the wedding, the supply of wine runs alarmingly low, and although he at first seems reluctant to do so, Jesus uses the most basic of elements—water—to demonstrate the power of God working through him by turning it into wine. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Turning water into wine, in the grand scheme of things, seems almost frivolous, and yet that is the miracle that first reveals Jesus’ power. In an act that is both understated and generous, Jesus demonstrates the abundance God holds for us; in doing so Jesus foreshadows a kingdom in which there is abundance for all, an abundance of those things which sustain physical life to be sure, but more importantly an abundance of the grace and love of God that sustain us spiritually. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >In light of this week’s events, however—the horrific earthquake in Haiti, the unspeakable suffering and devastation in a country already living on the margins—it is hard to see that abundance; it is hard to see God’s love for the world at all. A disaster like this can test our humanity, test our faith, can move us to cry, “Where <b><i>is</i></b></span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" > God in all this?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >This is of course an age old question: How can evil and suffering exist in a world viewed as good at its creation by its creator, a God thought to be all knowing, all powerful, and loving? It is a question that is voiced throughout scripture, in the laments of the psalmists, in the cries of the prophets, in the plaintive voice of Job, and even in the cry of Jesus on the cross. Where are you God, and why have you forsaken me?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Over the years there have been many attempts to explain this paradox. We probably all have our own implicit theories that guide our thinking—for better or for worse.<span style=""> </span>Probably one of the most common notions is one that we heard bandied about in the news this week from a well known conservative Christian: Evil and suffering are <b><i>God’s punishment for sinners</i></b></span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >—people are just getting what they deserve, and haven’t we all been warned?<span style=""> </span>For those of us who believe in a God who loves creation, who promises care and protection for the innocent, this type of explanation is not only inadequate but also offensive. And in the face of it, rarely are the “most evil” the ones who suffer; far more often it is the innocent—can we look into the faces of children who cry for their lost parents and really believe that they are deserving of the wrath of God being visited on them in this way?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >If suffering isn’t divine punishment, could at be, as some speculate, that suffering is <b><i>necessary</i></b></span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" > somehow to elicit the moral qualities of empathy, compassion, and care in humans which otherwise would not be cultivated? Suffering – at least the suffering of others – does sometimes bring out the best in us—witness the outpouring of aid flowing towards Haiti right now—we do often rise to the occasion—but what about when we don’t? What about when evil begets evil and perhaps more importantly, what about those who are afflicted, those whose lives are simply destroyed by what they must endure?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Of course, we could just avoid the question of why God allows suffering and evil altogether and focus on eschatological hopes for redemption. We could embrace suffering as something to be borne because at the end time the glory we will experience in the presence of God will more than compensate for it.<span style=""> </span>This approach, however, allows us to ignore suffering in the here and now and to simply shrug off the conditions in the world that we might otherwise work to change. At its worst, this kind of thinking might actually glorify suffering.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >For me, these understandings of suffering and evil make no sense. They are inconsistent with my understanding—from scripture, from prayer, from experience—of a loving and beneficent God, a God whose Son became incarnate for our redemption, whose love for us seems to know no bounds. Why would a God who loves us and who created us to delight in us allow suffering, often unmitigated, to be so prevalent in the world?<span style=""> </span>At the end, it remains a mystery to me, and I am forced to consider that perhaps all my attempts to make sense of it are themselves misplaced. Perhaps we are not meant to understand evil and suffering, only to live with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >It is here that the work of contemporary theologian Wendy Farley<a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=4904724901001231935#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><sup><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[1]<!--[endif]--></span></sup></a> gives me some hope, in fact, saves me from despair. Farley reminds us that we live in a world that is by nature less than perfect, a world that although created by an all powerful God, operates according to natural principles. In Farley’s view, creation is inherently defective even though created by a good God; because creation is separate from God it must be less than God and thus less than perfect, and in this fact lies creation’s “fatal flaw.”<span style=""> </span>In such a defective creation the very diversity and variety that contribute to its goodness also give rise to conflicts that make suffering inescapable.<span style=""> </span>The natural order of the world too contributes to humanity’s suffering. Worst of all some suffering seems irredeemably unjust.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >What Farley contends is that in the face of the inevitability of suffering our energies are wasted in attempting to understand it. What is more important, ultimately, is our response to that suffering—our response and God’s. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span>For the God who lovingly created us, the God who showers us with abundance, the God whose authority was revealed in deeds as small as changing water into wine and as large as raising Lazarus from the dead—that God, our God, suffers along with us. And in that suffering our God works through us to make God’s presence felt.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >And so, we find God in the hands that wipe away the tears of those who mourn their loved ones, we see God in the survivors who, as one eyewitness report tells us, huddle on an open field singing hymns well into the night and greeting the morning with prayer. We find God in the doctors and nurses who work in unspeakably poor conditions to heal the wounded, we encounter God in the offerings of food and medicine and clothing and money that are flooding in around the world. We find God in the outpouring of prayers for the people of Haiti, in the torrent of compassion, in the unity we find in reaching out to those who suffer. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Here’s the thing though—we shouldn’t wait for tragedy to strike to see God, to do God’s work in the world. Just as Jesus first revealed his power and authority in a relatively mundane way, turning water into wine at a wedding, rather than waiting for some more dramatic occasion, so too should we look for God’s grace and act as Christ’s body in our quotidian activities. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >And so when the emergency is, when the dead are buried and the wounded are healed, when the rebuilding is over and life returns to some semblance of normality, in the space before the world’s next cataclysmic event, we must not abandon our role as Christ’s body, doing Christ’s work – in Haiti, or in New Orleans, or in Palestine, or anywhere else where there is need. For where there is suffering, there too is God—calling us to be there with him, calling us to love our neighbors as ourselves, calling us to be partake of that abundant grace God holds for each of us.<span style=""> </span>Amen. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <hr style="height: 3px;font-size:78%;" align="left" width="33%"> <!--[endif]--> <div style="" id="ftn1"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=4904724901001231935#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->[1]<!--[endif]--></span></span></a></span><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" > Farley, Wendy (1990).<span style=""> </span>Tragic Vision and Divine Compassion: A Contemporary Theodicy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span>Westminster/John Knox Press</span><span style="font-size:100%;">.</span></p> </div> </div> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-86141150558762752282010-01-09T15:45:00.000-05:002010-01-09T15:48:22.886-05:00Sermon for the Baptism of our Lord January 10, 2010<span style="font-family: arial;">The First Sunday after the Epiphany</span><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />The Baptism of our Lord<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />January 10, 2010<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />Luke 3:15-17, 21-22<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The great protestant reformer Martin Luther is reputed to have proclaimed passionately to his audiences, “Remember your baptism!” For those of us who were baptized as infants, that is just about impossible. But if you are like me, perhaps the gaps in your memory have been filled in by family stories. I don’t remember my baptism, but I know that it took place on a hot June Sunday, in an Episcopal Church in North Carolina, long before anyone thought of air-conditioning churches. My whole family was gathered—my parents, and my grandparents and a couple of aunts and uncles, along with some of my parents’ closest friends, and of course, the congregation.<span style=""> </span>I was wearing the long white dress my older sister had worn at her baptism a few years earlier.<span style=""> </span>Because I was a chubby baby, and perhaps a few months older when I wore that dress than when my sister did, the arms were too tight, and my mother tells the story of how, in the rush to get to church on time, she simply took the scissors and snipped a few threads in each sleeve to make it more comfortable for me. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">More than 50 years later my little granddaughter Julianna wore that dress at her baptism, the sleeves still bearing the mark of my baptism day. Julianna likely won’t remember her baptism day either, but she’ll be able to see the pictures, and she’ll hear the stories—how it was hot in church that night, too, even though it was only April, and how the smell of the incense wafted through the congregation, and how her family gathered, church goers and non-church-goers alike in the candle light, as her Amma baptized her with water and marked her by the power of the Holy Spirit with fragrant oil, sealing her as Christ’s own forever. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Even if we don’t remember our own baptisms, chances are that we all know the story of Jesus’ baptism.<span style=""> </span>It’s told in all four gospels, and we hear it each year on this Sunday, the first Sunday after the Epiphany. It is, I think, no accident that this story is told in the season of Epiphany. “Epiphany” means a revelation, a showing, and in Jesus’ baptism and the actions that followed it, Jesus’ identity, his true identity, is revealed—not for the first time, certainly, for as we’ve heard over the last few weeks, the angel Gabriel revealed Jesus’ identity to Mary at the annunciation, and again to the shepherds on the night of his birth.<span style=""> </span>The infant John leapt in the womb, revealing this identity to Elizabeth when Mary went to visit, and Simeon and Anna caught glimpses of it when he was presented at the Temple. And in last week’s gospel, when Jesus lingered in the Temple and told his parents that he was in “his father’s house” he seemed to have had some inkling of who he was. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The revelation in today’s gospel, however—when the heavens opened up and a dove descended, and a voice proclaimed, “You are my son…” – did more than just signify Jesus’ identity. These words marked the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in the world; they set him on the journey that would culminate with the cross, and the empty tomb.<span style=""> </span>When Jesus was baptized and received the Holy Spirit, he received not only an affirmation of who he was, he also received a vocation. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">That sense of vocation is something I fear we sometimes miss in our practice of baptizing infants and young children. Don’t get me wrong—as you may be able to tell from my story about Julianna’s baptism, and from last week’s baptism of little Jacob, I love baptizing babies. When it is time to mark the sign of the cross on their foreheads with the holy oil, and to utter the words, “You are marked by the Holy Spirit and sealed as Christ’s own forever,” I get a chill.<span style=""> </span>Something very real, very powerful happens when we pour that water over an infant’s head, when we Chrismate with that oil—and it’s not something I’d want to give up. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">But—and there is a very real but coming—but when we fail to take the promises we make for the child being baptized seriously, when we fail to take those vows to heart for ourselves, when we fail to recognize that each and every one of us is given a vocation at baptism, then I fear that we miss the point of what we are doing. For baptism is more than a social occasion, it is more than a moving liturgy.<span style=""> </span>We consider baptism to be a <b><i>sacrament</i></b></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">—an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace—because baptism is <i>transformative</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">. It is life changing. And it is through baptism that we are called to live as Christ’s own forever, with all that entails. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">We may not remember our baptisms, and we may not always recognize the impact baptism has on our lives. But lucky for us, we are given the opportunity to refresh our memories as it were and to revisit what baptism means for us whenever we witness a baptism, and whenever we celebrate a “baptismal occasion” as we do today as we celebrate the baptism of our Lord. In just a few minutes we will stand and we will renew our baptismal covenant—those promises that were made for us by our parents and godparents, or perhaps that we made for ourselves if we were older. And in an act meant to fully reconnect us to the power of that moment in time, we’ll be sprinkled again with the holy waters of baptism.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">This may seem like so much show, but I invite you to enter fully into this moment. Think about the promises you are making, and what they mean for your lives—as individuals and corporately as members of this parish, as members of this community, as members of the body of Christ.<span style=""> </span>Pay attention to what you are promising—not only that you believe, but also that you will “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, “ that you will “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself,” and that you will “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” And if these promises seem daunting, pay attention to the responses we make to each one, “<i>I will with God’s help</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I will with God’s help. And that brings us full circle.<span style=""> </span>In baptism we receive our vocation as Christians, but we are not left to do it all on our own.<span style=""> </span>Instead we are given God’s grace and we are empowered by the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus was empowered by the spirit on the day of his baptism. We are empowered by the spirit and we are called into the community of the church to do the work of Christ in the world. And if we take this seriously, then our baptisms will be transformative not only for us, but for the whole world.<span style=""> </span>Think about what that could mean. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">And now, let us stand and reaffirm the promises of our baptism…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-47583429288448790532010-01-02T13:22:00.001-05:002010-01-02T13:25:09.993-05:00DRAFT~~2 Christmas 2010<span style="font-family:Calibri;">The Second Sunday of Christmas<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />January 3, 2010<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><br />Luke 2:41-52<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Almighty God, may your Word be our light in the darkness, and may these words help to spread that light in the world. Amen.</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">When I was a kid I spent a great deal of time in the public library. As a very young child, I haunted the children’s room of our local library, which was located in an old house, conveniently within walking distance of my own. In the first couple of years after I learned to read, I read through that children’s room, bottom to top. One of my favorite parts was a collection of biographies written for children.<span style=""> </span>The characters were familiar—George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Dolly Madison, Molly Pitcher, Florence Nightingale, George Washington Carver, and many more. I think my love of American history might have been born in reading those stories. But what I loved most about them is that they didn’t start with adult characters—they focused on the childhoods of these famous figures. Of course, looking back I can recognize that much of what they contained must have been fiction; enough historical accuracy to be credible, but made-up stories to fill in the gaps. Nonetheless I treasure those books for what they taught me and for the way that they made historical figures real. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">We don’t have many stories about the boy Jesus. In fact, today we hear the only story in our canonical gospels that deals with Jesus between his birth and his baptism, marking the beginning of his ministry some 30 years later. There are, of course, apocryphal stories about Jesus as a child to be found in writings not included in our canon of scripture. The best known of these is the <i>Infancy Gospel of Thomas</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">, a collection of tales that has Jesus creating birds out of clay, bringing dead things back to life, and yes, even using his superhuman powers in ways that aren’t entirely nice—perhaps one reason they are excluded from our canon!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Although it is not meant to be a biography, as we understand them, Luke’s gospel, has the fullest account of Jesus’ early years that we are afforded in our four gospels. Luke begins his story with the visit of the angel to Mary, announcing her impending pregnancy. He recounts the birth in Bethlehem, the homage paid to the infant by the humble shepherds, and the trip to Jerusalem to the Temple for the presentation of the infant Jesus, a trip during which Simeon and Anna recognize the infant for who he is.<span style=""> </span>And then we pick up with today’s gospel.<span style=""> </span>Jesus is 12—not quite yet a man, but certainly no longer a small child. The family has traveled to Jerusalem, as most faithful Jewish families did, to be at the Temple for the holy days of Passover. In many ways, these annual trips must have been like a big family reunion, and it’s easy to imagine Mary feeling comfortable with Jesus mingling in the crowds. It’s only when they are on the way home that she becomes alarmed when she can’t find him. I can imagine her growing feelings of fear and panic as she searched for him, and her mixture of exasperation and relief when Jesus turns up safe and sound in the Temple. And I can hear her saying, “<b><i>What</i></b></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> were you thinking?<span style=""> </span>Didn’t you know we’d be worried?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Like most preadolescents, Jesus has a ready answer “Why would you worry?<span style=""> </span>Don’t you know I belong in my father’s house?”<span style=""> </span>And as she had earlier, Mary pondered this in her heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I love this story. I love it as a mother because it is so very real. Jesus, like any other preadolescent, is wrapped up in himself—what he needs, what he wants, with little regard for his parents’ feelings. It’s not mean, it’s not malicious; it’s just preadolescent. He’s on that developmental quest to figure out what it means to grow up, to figure out just who he is and what he is about.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">And I love this story because Jesus is so very human. We can relate, can’t we? As a child or as a parent, we’ve been there, done that. Like Jesus, we have to figure out who we are and what we are called to be in this world. We have to break away from the comfort of our parent’s care and learn to stand on our own. And sometimes in doing so we hurt the ones we love, or we frighten them or cause them worry.<span style=""> </span>It’s unintentional but it’s real. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">When Jesus stays behind at the Temple, worrying his parents, doing what HE needs to do, he is revealing a very human side—Jesus is incarnate, enfleshed; he’s human like the rest of us. And yet, what Jesus says and does at the Temple reveals something else to us—his divinity. For even as he seeks validation as a preadolescent, he reveals the wisdom and foresight that mark his divinity. Jesus may be figuring out what he is about but he knows in a very real way WHOSE he is.<span style=""> </span>He’s very clear when he says to Mary, “I was in my father’s house.” For Jesus, knowing that, knowing who his father is, is the key to all the rest. WHOSE he is determines WHO he is; it shapes his ministry and sets him on a journey that will end at the empty tomb. For Jesus, knowing WHOSE he is is everything.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">As a developmental psychologist by training, I could give you a good lecture on how important it is for adolescents to figure out WHO they are; about how they must question all the values and beliefs their parents have worked so hard to instill in them, how they must question them and make them their own, and figure out who they will be in this world. And while I know that to be a crucial part of development, I also know that it leaves something out—it leaves out what Jesus shows us in today’s gospel.<span style=""> </span>We don’t need just to know <b><i>who</i></b></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> we are—we need to know <b><i>WHOSE </i></b></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">we are. Jesus was, is, the Son of God, but we are God’s children, created in God’s image, beloved of God. And knowing that grounds us, roots us, gives us the foundation we need to figure out all the rest, to be the people we were made to be, to live the way Jesus calls us to live. Knowing <b><i>WHOSE</i></b></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> we are is just as important for us as it was for the 12-year-old Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">This morning we will baptize baby Jacob Marc, incorporating him fully into the body of Christ, the church.<span style=""> </span>At the end of that ritual we will sign his forehead with oil, sealing him as Christ’s own forever. What better way to remind ourselves WHOSE we are. We are God’s beloved children, we are sealed as Christ’s own, we are infinitely precious, each and every one of us, to the One who made us. And that is the most important thing for us to know.<br /> <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">AMEN<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-22848933119604364802009-12-12T13:29:00.003-05:002009-12-12T22:20:43.883-05:00A Sermon for Advent 3 2009<span style="font-family:Calibri;">The Third Sunday in Advent<br />December 3, 2009<br />Luke 3:7-18<i><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might, come among us; inspire us with your Word and fill us with your joy, we pray.<span style=""> </span>Amen.</i></span><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">More than 20 years ago author and Unitarian minister Robert Fulghum captivated the minds and hearts of readers with a volume of essays written to summarize and illustrate his Credo, his belief system, his philosophy of life, if you will.<span style=""> </span><i>All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> captured the top spot on the New York Times bestseller list for almost two years, and even now, its simple wisdom resonates deeply with us as we struggle with living in an increasingly complex world.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">In his first chapter, Fulghum writes,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at school.<o:p></o:p> These are the things I learned: <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Share everything. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Play fair. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Don't hit people. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Put things back where you found them. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Clean up your own mess. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Don't take things that aren't yours. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Wash your hands before you eat. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Flush. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>Take a nap every afternoon. <o:p></o:p></i></span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i>When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.<br /></i></span></li></ul> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->In the years since these words were published, Fulghum has been both praised for capturing the essence of what is important in life, and criticized for been too simplistic, too saccharine, and trite. What strikes me, as I reread these words, though, is how similar they are in theme to John the Baptist’s replies to his audience in today’s gospel when asked, “What then should we do?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">We don’t often think of John the Baptist as one who gives advice on how to live—at least not specific advice. “Prepare the way,” we hear him cry; “Repent, and make way for the one who is to come.”<span style=""> </span>But what does it mean to repent, anyway?<span style=""> </span>When we repent of our sins, most of the time we mean that we are sorry, and that we won’t do it—whatever it is—again.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">That’s fine as far as it goes. But the Greek word which we translate as repent—<i>metanoia</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;">—has a deeper meaning. <i>Metanoia</i></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> connotes turning away—turning away from those things that are bad for us, that are evil, that separate us from God. But when we turn away from those things, are we turning towards a vacuum?<span style=""> </span>What is it that will replace them?<span style=""> </span>Any good behavioral psychologist will tell you that to get rid of an undesirable behavior, you must replace it with one that is more desirable. So when we turn away from our sins—from those things that separate us from God—we must turn towards something new, something that will draw us ever closer to God.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">John the Baptist is preaching in the wilderness to a varied audience, one comprised of the crowds who flocked to hear him, often poor and marginalized themselves, but also soldiers and tax collectors. It is to this scruffy, rag-tag group that his comments are directed today. To the crowds he says to share what they have; to the tax collectors, whose jobs regularly included extorting extra funds to line their own pockets, he advises not taking more than they should. And to the soldiers, who like the tax collectors, had the power to take more for themselves, he says, “Be satisfied with what you have.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Share.<o:p></o:p><br />Be fair.<o:p></o:p><br />Don’t be a bully.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Yes, it’s that simple. Like Robert Fulghum’s advice, it’s the stuff you learned in kindergarten.<span style=""> </span>And yet, at the same time, it’s radical.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It’s radical because it’s the kind of behavior that we preach to our kids and claim to embrace ourselves, and in spite of that, it sometimes runs against our very grain to actually do it.<span style=""> </span>It’s the kind of behavior that we don’t hesitate to put aside when doing so serves us better. Its very simplicity makes it vulnerable to our darker sides—our desires to get ahead, to put our self-interest first, to exert our power over others because we can.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">It seems too easy, and yet it is so hard.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">John the Baptist likely knew this, preaching at he did in the midst of his stern warnings to prepare the way…look at how he started off: You brood of vipers! Don’t rest on your laurels, don’t feel safe because you are descendants of Abraham!<span style=""> </span>Trees that bear no fruit are torn up by their roots!<span style=""> </span>Beware!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Only when he has completely grabbed the attention of his audience, only when he has them shaken up a bit, does he go on to give them the good news.<span style=""> </span>Another is coming, one who will baptize them in the spirit.<span style=""> </span>And in the meantime, this is how they should live.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">The one who comes after John, Jesus the Messiah, of course, takes up this same good news, preaching it over and over again.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Share.<o:p></o:p><br />Be fair.<o:p></o:p><br />Don’t be a bully.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">We preachers who dwell on this message have sometimes been accused, like Robert Fulghum, of being trite. We’re accused of reducing the gospel message to nothing more than a lesson in ethical behavior. We’ve been charged with making Jesus (and John the Baptist, since he’s our preacher today) nothing more than a teacher of morality, and of overlooking the message of the cross. But I think that charge is unfair. Because this message is at the VERY HEART of the gospel. It’s what Jesus taught all the way to the cross, and he sums it up when he summarizes the law:<span style=""> </span><b><i>You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment and the second is like unto it; you shall love your neighbor as yourself.</i></b></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"> And if you do that, it becomes the well-spring from which everything else Jesus preached naturally flows.<span style=""> </span>It becomes the foundation on which the kingdom of God that Jesus promises us is built. It becomes the linchpin in our salvation.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">John foreshadows that message with his prophetic cry today.<span style=""> </span>His rag tag audience asks, “What should we do?” and he answers them.<span style=""> </span>We come before God each and every week often asking that same question, “What should we do?” and John’s advice is good for us, too.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Share.<o:p></o:p><br />Be fair.<o:p></o:p><br />Don’t be a bully.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">What might our world be like if we REALLY behaved that way?<span style=""> </span>Not superficially, not just when it suited us, but ALL the time, in every situation?<span style=""> </span>I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing that if we really behaved that way—in all places and in all times—that we’d be ready for Jesus to come. We’d be ready for the joy Paul describes in his letter to the Philippians.<span style=""> </span>We’d be ready for the savior.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">So what do you think?<span style=""> </span>What should we do?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Share.<o:p></o:p><br />Be fair.<o:p></o:p><br />Don’t be a bully.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Love God and love your neighbor.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Open your hearts to the joy that is the Christ Child.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Amen. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-71435011427693550882008-02-03T09:23:00.001-05:002009-12-12T13:23:07.615-05:00Sermon for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany<span style="font-family:arial;">The Second Sunday after the Epiphany A</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">January 20, 2008</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">John 1:29-42</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">For the last couple of years I’ve been part of an informal network of women clergy who mostly know each other through the internet. This group comprises women of all ages and many different denominations and besides the camaraderie and commiseration we offer one another, we also share notes on preaching. This has been a real learning experience for me, particularly hearing how others choose their texts. Suffice it to say that there is great variety in how this happens, but what it has reinforced for me is something I’ve said here before: I’m really glad we have a lectionary. I’m glad because I don’t have to pick, I just preach on whatever is assigned, whether I like it or not. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Lately though, I’ve been intrigued by the choices made by those who constructed the lectionary…why this lesson this week? Why that one now? And so about 10 days ago when I looked up the readings for today I had to ask myself, “Why do we get the Gospel of John when we are just getting settled into year A which focuses on Matthew?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">That question stayed in the back of my mind as I let this week’s gospel settle into my bones. Why John? Why now? It was a little discomfiting to me because lately I’ve been thoroughly immersed in the Gospel according to Matthew, and I’ve asked you to enter that narrative world with me, and now we have to shift gears. But late Friday night as I read over today’s gospel one more time, I had a “eureka” moment—a flash of insight, an epiphany if you will, in this season of Epiphany. One way to look at the lectionary is just as a walk through the gospels, roughly in the order that they’re written. But the lectionary is also shaped to tell a story—THE story, and the season of Epiphany is all about being shown who Jesus is—that’s what the word means, after all, epiphany coming from epipheinen, to show. Read in this light the gospels passages for season of Epiphany might be seen as a series of “epiphanies” On the feast of the Epiphany the Magi show us that Jesus is the chosen one who comes not just to the people of Israel, but to everyone. On the first Sunday after Epiphany Jesus is baptized and hears the voice from heaven declaring him to be God’s beloved son—perhaps confirming for himself who he really is. And today we hear the story from John the Baptist’s perspective; we get another view of who Jesus is and what he’s all about.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Now perhaps I’m preaching the obvious to many of you, but this notion of the whole season of Epiphany being specifically about showing us who Jesus is was so intriguing to me that I skimmed over the lectionary for all three years, and sure enough, it’s there. No matter whether we’re mainly focused on Matthew, Mark, or Luke, the gospels selected are ones that concentrate less on what Jesus did and more on who he was and is. In almost every passage there’s some new clue about what it means for Jesus to be the messiah, the anointed one, about the meaning of his ministry. And each year, the season of Epiphany reaches its culmination with the story of the transfiguration when Jesus is shown, revealed in all his glory to his closest disciples—but I’ll have more to say about that in two weeks!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">With that in mind, let’s take a look at what today’s gospel reading from John shows us about Jesus. To do that, I’d like for us to leave behind the narrative world of Matthew where we’ve been for the last few weeks and to enter instead into the world of John, a very different world in some ways. In the Gospel according to John, we get no birth story at all. We know nothing about Jesus’ human origins and early life. What we get in John’s gospel is a beautiful and poetic prologue, which places Jesus as the Word, with God at the very point of creation. In this prologue we also learn that there will be voice crying in the wilderness to prepare for the coming of the anointed one, and we meet John the Baptist who embodies that voice, but it is not until we get to verse 29, where our gospel begins to today, that we actually meet the person Jesus or hear his name. And even then we first meet him through John, who sees him walking by. There is no interaction between John and Jesus—we suppose that John has baptized Jesus, but we do so on the basis of what we know from the other gospels because there is no direct evidence of that happening here. Nonetheless it is clear that John, and perhaps John alone at this point, knows who Jesus is because as Jesus walks by John exclaims,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” That phrase, familiar as it is to us, is fraught with meaning, and I wonder if John’s disciples standing there with him fully realized the impact of what John said. With this one phrase John has placed Jesus clearly into the scope of Israel’s salvation history. The full impact of this won’t be obvious until the crucifixion, but it is a clear portent of what is to come, and a sign that God has privileged John, allowing him this insight, this epiphany.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">John is not the only one who has an epiphany though. The next day John is again standing with two of his disciples when Jesus walks by. John once more exclaims, “Here is the Lamb of God,” and this time his two disciples, struck by what he has said, or compelled by the magnetism of Jesus, or both, begin to follow him. And one of them, Andrew, not only follows but also goes to fetch his brother Simon, telling him that they have found the messiah. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It seems remarkable to me that at this point Jesus hasn’t said or done anything that would signify his status. Rather John and his disciples have been shown who Jesus is through revelation—God’s voice and John’s, proclaiming that Jesus is the one. Like the Magi who followed the star to find the babe, John and his disciples are pointing to Jesus, revealing his identity, showing him to others.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">And that brings us back to where we started. If this season of Epiphany is about being shown who and what Jesus is, what then does this gospel from John show us? And what are we to do about it? During Epiphany we move between the two great feasts of the Church Year—Christmas—the birth of the child—and the Triduum—the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Liturgically, theologically, we spend this time trying to grasp—yet again—who this Jesus is and what he means for our lives. In naming Jesus the Lamb of God, John seems to grasp the full import of Jesus’ life and ministry, and John’s voice, crying in the wilderness is clear and strong: Jesus is the one for whom the people of Israel have been waiting. John points the way so that others might follow, and we are among those others. Like the crowds who followed Jesus, we are sometimes slow to get it, but get it we must, otherwise Easter is meaningless.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But it doesn’t stop there. I don’t want anyone to leave here today thinking that this is all esoteric, abstract theology, something that we have to think about only during church. In fact, I think today’s gospel and all of the gospels of Epiphany raise a very real and pragmatic question for us. How do we recognize Jesus in the here and now? Where do we find our epiphanies? Is it in the words of the evangelists? Is it in the Eucharist? Is it in the faces of our guests at the days and nights of hospitality? Is it in a word of condolence, a hug we receive from others, a light moment shared with a friend? Is it in a walk in the garden or on the beach? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Because, friends, the good news is that Jesus is here with us, and Jesus calls us to follow, just as he called his first disciples. Every day. All the time, whether we’re aware of it or not. Like the disciples we are free to hear and respond or to ignore him. But if we do respond, like the disciples, if we do respond our lives will be changed in ways that we may not be able to imagine. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">And so, I have a challenge for you, for all of us as we move through the last two weeks of this season. Look for Jesus. Watch for epiphanies. Be ready to respond when Jesus says, “Come and see.” And see where that leads us. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">AMEN</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-67970278114210526832008-01-28T13:40:00.001-05:002008-01-28T13:50:33.438-05:00Economics and consumption~I'm not an economist and I have never pretended to understand the ins and outs of economic policies. Much of it sounds like gobblety gook to me. But in my naivete I've often wondered how a system that always demands MORE--more resources, more consumption-- can be sustained in the long run.<br /><br />~I've also wondered about the ethics of tax cuts in era in which government deficits are at an all time high and social programs are slashed on a regular basis.<br /><br />~And what about tax rebates to stimulate the economy? On the one hand Americans are consistently told that they don't save enough while on the other hand we're told we need to keep spending.<br /><br />~So it was heartening to find this <a href="http://e4gr.blogspot.com/2008/01/false-gospel-of-mindless-consumption-by.html">great article </a> at the <a href="http://e4gr.blogspot.com/">Episcopalians for Global Reconciliation</a> website. Read it. And take it to heart.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-79739414150720126052008-01-28T10:43:00.001-05:002009-12-12T13:23:26.750-05:00Sermon for the Feast of the Epiphany<span style="font-family:arial;">The Epiphany of Our Lord</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> January 6, 2008 </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> Matthew 2:1-12</span><br /> <span class="style33" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span> </span><p style="font-family: arial;"></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">Merry Christmas!</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">It is still Christmas, you know. Even though our celebrations may be fading into memory, and our decorations are being packed away, and despite the Valentine displays popping up in all in the stores, it’s still Christmas. Today marks the 12th day of Christmas, and it is also the day we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany. Epiphany is a day that goes largely unnoticed by the secular world—you won’t find Epiphany cards at the Hallmark store, or Epiphany sales in the mall, you won’t hear Epiphany hymns on the radio or see Epiphany specials on TV. In one way, that’s a relief—there’s still a part of Christmas that hasn’t been secularized, but in another way, it’s too bad. It’s too bad because the Feast of the Epiphany gives us once last chance to celebrate the real meaning of Christmas. The word epiphany comes from the Greek epipheinen which means to show, to make manifest—and what is Christmas about if it is not about declaring, showing to the world WHO this child is whose humble birth we commemorate? On Epiphany we declare this again aswe mark the coming of the magi, the wise guys from the east, who led by a star come to pay homage to this child, and whose coming helps reveal to all the world the unique status of the babe born in Bethlehem.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">Two weeks ago, on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, some of you may recall that I asked you to enter with me into the narrative of the evangelist Matthew and to consider the Christmas story just as he tells it. To grasp the full impact of the magi’s visit, I’d like for us to reenter that narrative world. Remember that in Matthew’s telling of the story, we learn of the impending birth from the perspective of Joseph, not Mary. We know that after an angel speaks to Joseph in a dream, telling him that Mary’s child has been conceived by the Holy Spirit, he takes the pregnant Mary as his wife, and in due time a son is born whom he names Jesus. And that’s all we know. There is no stable, no manger, there are no shepherds watching over their flocks and no angelic host—there is nothing to mark this birth as special, as extraordinary when it takes place. Matthew doesn’t even tell us what Mary knows or thinks about this whole event. It is an event that seems to take place without much notice. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">But when we rejoin the story today we learn that this birth has not gone unnoticed after all. On the contrary, it has cause quite a stir. Magi—astrologers or wise men—from the east have been reading the skies, and have taken note of an unusual heavenly occurrence—a new star, perhaps a comet, or a particular alignment of heavenly bodies. Whatever it is, the magi read it as a sign, a sign that a new king will be born in Palestine. Deciding that they should pay homage to this king, they embark on a journey to the west, and finally arrive in Bethlehem where they find Mary and the baby at home.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">Now remember, we’re hearing this story as Matthew tells it. Mary, as far as we know, hasn’t seen any angels. There haven’t been any special visitors. We might even imagine that if Joseph took her as his wife quietly and unobtrusively to avoid any hint of scandal, this young family might be living somewhat in seclusion. In any event, this birth has not been heralded in any way except for Joseph’s dream.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">So imagine what it must have been like when mysterious travelers from the east arrived at the door. Tradition tells us that there were three, but we don’t really know how many magi there were—it could’ve been 2 or it could’ve been a dozen. In any event they arrive at the door, and when they see the baby, they fall prostrate on the floor—a sign of respect due only to royalty. And then they present magnificent gifts—gold, always of great worth, and frankincense and myrrh, oils of such value that they were beyond the reach of ordinary folks like Mary and Joseph. We don’t know what kind of conversations took place, nor do we know how long these wise guys stayed. All we know is that once they had paid homage to the infant Jesus and presented their gifts, they returned to their homes, their work done. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">At this point you might be saying, so what? It’s a great story, with lots of dramatic effect, but what is the real meaning of the magi’s visit—what it did it mean for Matthew’s original audience, and what it might mean for us, some 2000 years later. Let’s take a look a that.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">In the gospel according to Matthew, the evangelist goes to great lengths to show how both the birth of Jesus, and his later ministry fulfill the ancient prophecies, prophecies that the people of Israel would have been intimately familiar with. In our readings during Advent we, too, heard some of those prophecies. Using them, Matthew builds a strong case to show that this baby, this Jesus, is in fact the king, the messiah, the savior the people of Israel, the Jews, have been waiting for. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">But here come these wise guys from the east—they are not part of the house of Israel, they don’t know the scriptures, they aren’t waiting for a messiah. So why are they part of the story? Just for dramatic effect? Just as a plot twist to get Herod involved? I don’t think so. The role of the magi is much more important than that. The magi, the wise guys who were learned in many ways but not likely well versed in Hebrew scriptures were able to read the signs, to recognize the import of this humble birth, precisely because Jesus came for all of creation. Yes, he was the fulfillment of the prophecies, the one the people of Israel longed for, but he was more than that. He was the one who would usher in God’s kingdom welcoming everyone—Jew and Gentile, male and female, young and old, the poor, the outcast, the sinner. No one was out of the reach of this manifestation of God’s love for God’s creation. When the magi prostrate themselves before the baby Jesus they may not understand what his life will be about, but they do understand that his kingdom includes them. And we understand that it includes all of us as well. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">This must have been an important message for the early church to hear, a church that was still struggling to grasp what it all meant, a church in Matthew’s world at least, made up primarily of Jews. Yes, this story confirms, yes, Jesus is the one to whom all the prophecies point; yes, he is the one you’ve waited for. But not just you, house of Israel. Jesus is the one for whom all creation has been straining. He is the one who had come to include ALL into God’s kingdom.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">That’s a message we can take to heart as well. We hear it differently to be sure in a world in which Christianity has been dominant for centuries. But even in such a world we struggle with matters of inclusion. We try to define who is in and who is out. We set up rules and dogma and doctrine and we become legalistic about using them. The visit of the magi can remind us, just as it reminded Matthew’s original audience, that God’s kingdom is for all of us. It cannot be restricted. It cannot be bound by human terms. It is God’s kingdom. And just as God chose the unlikely vehicle of a child born in humble surroundings to usher in that kingdom, and the unlikely messengers of magi from the east to herald his coming, so too may God come to us, revealed in unexpected way, at unexpected times.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">And that is the second lesson of the magi. They knew of Jesus’ birth because they read the signs, they were open to new revelations, to new insights. It’s so easy for us to become fixated, to focus ourselves narrowly on one vision, one goal. However admirable that may be at times, we also run the very real risk of missing wonderful things around us. The magi remind us to be watchful, to be aware, and to be open to new possibilities—possibilities of seeing God in new ways, in unanticipated places, possibilities of experiencing God’s love in our lives anew.<br /><br /> And so on this Feast of the Epiphany, this 12th day of Christmas I hope that we might take the story of the magi to heart. I hope that like the magi we might be watchful for signs of God’s presence and be open to encountering God in new and unexpected ways. And as this Christmas season draws to a close, I hope that we, like the magi, might help make God’s presence and God’s boundless love for all of creation manifest in the world.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">Merry Christmas</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-11137073944376280002008-01-28T10:40:00.000-05:002008-01-28T10:43:30.503-05:00Sermon for 4 Advent<p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32">The Fourth Sunday of Advent Year A<br /> December 23, 2007<br /> Matthew 1:18-25<br /> </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style32"><span style="font-style: italic;">Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way</span>…</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">A couple of months ago, a few of us began meeting on Tuesday mornings to study the gospel according to Matthew. One of the questions I posed to the group as we began was, “What would you know about Jesus if you only had this gospel? No Mark, no Luke, no John, no letters from Paul, no Acts of the Apostles, just this gospel.” Today I want to narrow down that question and ask you, “What would you know about the nativity, the Christmas story, if we only had the gospel according to Matthew?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">Today’s gospel reading, the reading for the fourth Sunday in Advent, is that story, and it’s the only time in the three year lectionary cycle that we get to hear it standing on its own. Our Christmas Pageant Monday evening, like almost all Christmas pageants, will enact the familiar story that is the amalgam drawn from both Matthew and Luke. Later on Christmas Eve we will hear, as we do every year, the story from the gospel according to Luke, and on Christmas Day we hear not a traditional birth story at all, but rather the prologue to the gospel of John. But today we hear Matthew’s version of the nativity, short and simple, and unlike Luke’s account, focusing on Joseph rather than Mary. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">Unlike Mary who sometimes shows up during Jesus’ ministry, Joseph is absent from scripture after Jesus’ childhood. Many scholars have speculated that he was older than Mary, and implicitly then that he had died before Jesus’ ministry began. In Matthew’s gospel in particular Jesus goes to great lengths to establish that God is his real father, a father in heaven obviating the need for an earthly father. So it is interesting that it is Matthew who chooses to give not Mary’s story, but Joseph’s. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">One of the things we know from both Matthew’s and Luke’s account is that Mary and Joseph were betrothed. We often speak of them as being engaged, but in fact the commitment between them was much different from what we think of when we speak of being engaged. Marriage was a significant event in family life, and marriage arrangements were negotiated not between individuals but between families, Marriage contracts were negotiated with a view towards maintaining family honor as well as economic stability and sometimes political gain. Signing of the contract was witnessed by the entire community, and resulted in a bond that required a divorce to break, but the marriage was not complete until in a separate ceremony the bride was handed over to the husband’s father, often as much as a year later. In both Matthew’s and Luke’s gospel, when we first meet Mary and Joseph they have been legally committed to one another with the signing of a marriage contract, but Mary has not yet been given to Joseph and his family. In this interim period, sexual relations are forbidden, and the purity of the bride is maintained. Loss of that purity would bring disgrace not only on her, but more importantly also on her betrothed and his family. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">In Luke’s version of the story we hear of Mary’s wonder and awe when she is visited by the angel who tells her that she will bear a child conceived by the Holy Spirit, but we get no sense of the conflict this pregnancy must have represented for all involved. It’s only when we read Matthew’s gospel that we understand that this pregnancy presented a huge challenge of faith not only for Mary, but also for Joseph—for it was Joseph and his family whose honor would be impugned when Mary turned up pregnant before the final part of the marriage ritual took place. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">And so we find Joseph in today’s gospel, having resolved to quietly divorce Mary. This was his right—it was more than his right, it was his duty, according to the law and as a righteous man Joseph would follow the rules. But he must have been a kind man, too, because he resolved not to disgrace Mary publicly as he could have done, but instead to privately end their contract. Before he could do this, however, an angel appeared to him in a dream. “Don’t be afraid,” the angel tells him (isn’t that what angels always say?), “don’t be afraid to welcome Mary into your home, to take her as your wife, because this baby is conceived by the Holy Spirit.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">We have no record of Joseph’s immediate reaction—we have no “song of Joseph,” no prayer to God, no tears, no anger, no reaction at all. All we know is that Joseph did as the angel said; he took Mary as his wife, and he in essence adopted Jesus as his son, thus firmly placing him in the house of David just as the prophets had foretold.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">What do we know about the Christmas story when we read just the gospel of Matthew? We don’t know about the angel’s visit to Mary, or about Mary singing praises to God, or traveling with Joseph to Bethlehem. We don’t know about babies in mangers, or shepherds guarding their flocks, or angelic hosts on high. Instead, we come to know of a righteous man, one bound to follow the law and to honor both God and his family, a man who wordlessly accepts this message from God delivered in a dream, who takes the young pregnant Mary as his wife, who acts in great faith to adopt a son who is not fully his own. And as we read on in Matthew’s gospel, we learn of a Joseph who continues to listen to God’s messages, who picks up his young family and spirits them away to avoid the wrath of Herod, and who upon returning from exile, takes up residence in a new village away from his family to ensure the safety of this family—all of this likely at great cost to himself, his livelihood, his honor. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">We rightly lift up and glorify Mary, the young woman who joyfully gave herself over to become theotokos, God-bearer, the mother of Jesus. We hold up her willingness to be a vessel, to say yes to God as a model to emulate. But today’s gospel reminds us that there are other models as well. Today’s gospel reminds us of the calm faith and steadfastness of Joseph who stood beside Mary, who protected both Mary and the babe, who subjugated his own well-being to care for his family, who laid aside the law to do what was right, even when that was the harder choice—all because that is what God called him to do. Today’s gospel reminds us that Joseph said yes to God in his own quiet way.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34"><br /> Poet and preacher J. Barrie Shepherd writes:</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34" align="center">The hardest task<br /> The most difficult role of all<br /> That of just being there<br /> And Joseph, dearest Joseph, stands for that.<br /> Don’t you see?</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34" align="center">It is important,<br /> crucially important,<br /> that he stand there by that manger,<br /> as he does,<br /> In all his silent misery<br /> Of doubt concern and fear.<br /> If Joseph were not there<br /> There might be no place for us,<br /> …<br /> Let us be there,<br /> Simply be there just as Joseph was,<br /> With nothing we can do now,<br /> Nothing we can bring-<br /> It’s far too late for that-<br /> Nothing even to be said<br /> Except, ‘Behold- be blessed,<br /> Be silent, be at peace.’<br /> …<br /> The hardest task<br /> The most difficult role of all<br /> That of just being there<br /> And Joseph, dearest Joseph, stands for that.<br /> Don’t you see? <span style="font-size:78%;"><span class="style35">(1)</span></span><br /> </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">Monday evening we will again be caught up in all the wonder of the Christmas story as Luke recounts it. But on this last Sunday in Advent, let us embrace the story as Matthew tells it, and in doing so, may we remember and hold onto the quiet steadfast faith of Joseph; may we like Joseph have the courage to do the right thing even when it is the harder choice; may we too say yes to God. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="style34">AMEN </p> <br /> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;" class="style35"><span style="font-size:78%;">(1)</span> Shepherd, J. Barrie. Faces at the Manger. Nashville: Upper Room Books, 1992.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-8964447457903519022008-01-26T21:57:00.000-05:002008-01-26T22:06:59.695-05:00Neglect~I've horribly neglected this blog the last month and a half....I promise something substantive soon!<br /><br />Meanwhile, a picture to brighten this place up a bit...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaPTYPgiP01Y9aWG7stpfkjma50P6kpTLLUH327vjxoA4LMuD0FluNVYYMrw7VU2zD1A_audxYXwyHZb4TZIVUhjKbJZgW0HS1fe2eMjVzGUK2OZJPSD3l4W7IIZJnoccAH6a4b4ELF0M/s1600-h/Sunset_0200.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaPTYPgiP01Y9aWG7stpfkjma50P6kpTLLUH327vjxoA4LMuD0FluNVYYMrw7VU2zD1A_audxYXwyHZb4TZIVUhjKbJZgW0HS1fe2eMjVzGUK2OZJPSD3l4W7IIZJnoccAH6a4b4ELF0M/s320/Sunset_0200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159986742654854850" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-59581221816610279812007-12-03T14:40:00.000-05:002007-12-03T14:45:14.038-05:00A prayer for Advent<span style="font-family: arial;">Lord Jesus,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Master of both the light and the darkness,<br /> send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We who have so much to do<br /> seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We who are anxious over many things<br /> look forward to your coming among us.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We who are blessed in so many ways<br /> long for the complete joy of your kingdom.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We whose hearts are heavy<br /> seek the joy of your presence.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We are your people,<br /> walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">To you we say, "Come Lord Jesus!"</span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Amen.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">~Henri J. M. Nouwen</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904724901001231935.post-82781322027157458492007-12-03T14:35:00.000-05:002007-12-03T14:38:19.586-05:00Sermon for the Last Sunday after Pentecost<span style="font-family: arial;">The Last Sunday after Pentecost</span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">The Feast of Christ the King</span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">November 25, 2007</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">“Once upon a time, in a far away kingdom, there lived a king… and after a series of amazing adventures and heroic rescues, the handsome king and the beautiful princess were married and lived happily ever after.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">For many of us who grew up with fairy tales, such stories of handsome and heroic kings and beautiful and often downtrodden princesses, and most of all, ‘happily ever after’ endings shaped our view of royalty. As a small child my imagination was fed by such tales, and reinforced by real events chronicled in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Life </span>and<span style="font-style: italic;"> Look</span> magazines that arrived in the mail each week: the fairy tale marriage of Grace Kelly to the Prince of Monaco, stories about Queen Elizabeth and her growing family, about the marriage of Princess Margaret, and then years later, the marriage of Diana to Prince Charles. Royalty meant beauty and glitz and fairy tale images of palaces and coaches and crowns. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course, those of us who grew up with those images also came to realize how shallow they were, how insubstantial and fleeting the storybook ‘happily ever after’ turned out to be. Kings and queens and princesses have feet of clay, just like the rest of us, or so it seems--ordinary people cloaked in extraordinary surrounds, whose real day to day lives cannot live up to our fairy tale expectations.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I wonder if it didn’t feel a little like this for Jesus’ followers in today’s gospel. Their leader, the one who had preached and taught and healed, the one who proclaimed the coming of a new kingdom, the one Pilate had asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?” now hung on a cross, subjected to a degrading form of punishment reserved for the lowest members of society, hung there in the midst of two common criminals to die a slow and painful death. Was he after all, they must have wondered, just another human with clay feet pretending to be more than he was? If he was really the messiah, the anointed one, wouldn’t he save himself from such an end? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course the answer to those ponderings, the truth of Jesus’ message, of his identity would be fully revealed a few days hence when his tomb was found empty. But today as we end our liturgical year, we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King, and our gospel focuses not on the resurrection, but on the crucifixion. So we must ask ourselves, “What does this story about Jesus on the cross reveal to us about his kingship?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">From the very beginnings of his ministry, Jesus defied all expectations of what a “messiah”, an anointed one should be like. In a world in which the Roman Empire reigned supreme, a world in which the fate of the people of Israel, the chosen people of God, seemed to hang precariously on the whims of various puppet kings working in league with the empire, hopes were high for a messiah, a king anointed as David had been who would liberate them, set them free and restore their land and their fortunes and their status. There were of course, many who claimed to be that one, and there were minor rebellions and uprisings, all quickly squashed by the Romans. So when this simple man Jesus emerged out of the wilderness to preach and teach and heal and proclaim the coming kingdom of God, he made an unlikely figure to fulfill the hopes of the people. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">His teaching and his actions were persuasive, however, and he attracted throngs everywhere he went. He challenged his followers not to revolt militarily, but rather to live counter culturally—to love God and love neighbor as the highest virtues, to place little value on earthly goods and earthly honors but to strive to enter the kingdom of God. He preached a radical gospel that called his followers to turn the other cheek, to give up not only their cloaks but also their inner garments, to feed the hungry and care for the prisoner. He consorted with those proper society shunned—tax collectors, Samaritans, women. He called his followers to repent—to turn away from the powers that controlled their lives and to take up a new way. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">In all this, Jesus, the unlikely messiah, attracted enough attention to worry the powers-that-be. Certainly he was of no real threat—he had no armies, he incited no revolt. But his message asked those who heard him to rethink the lives they were living, to resist the powers in a more subtle and ultimately more potent way, and that could not be tolerated.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">And so we find Jesus on the cross, mocked as the King of the Jews, degraded and dishonored and left to die. “You saved others, now save yourself” one of the evildoers along side him called out. But just as Jesus resisted the temptation in the wilderness to throw himself from the pinnacle of the Temple to show his invulnerability to death, so too did he resist the temptation to save himself from death on the cross. In accepting that death, that ignominious and untimely death, Jesus showed his true kingship. His power broke the earthly powers that shackled him and shackled the people of God. And he broke the earthly powers that shackle us as well. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We celebrate the feast of Christ the King, our king, in recognition that since that moment of his death we have been living in a new world. No longer can the powers and principalities hold us in the same way if—and this is a big if—we are willing to follow the way Jesus laid out for us. Counter cultural today as it was then, radical, and demanding. A way that calls us to give up those things—power, wealth, prestige, conceit, honor, status, violence, aggression, vengeance, all those things, whatever they are—that make us complicit with powers and principalities and separate us from God. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We celebrate the feast of Christ the King on the last Sunday in Pentecost, the last Sunday in our church year. Next week, the first Sunday in Advent, we begin a new year. We look forward to the birth of the Christ Child, we celebrate his ministry, we live through his death and glorious resurrection, and in all that we seek to reshape our lives so that we can better realize the Kingdom of God that Jesus’ death on the cross ushered in. On this new year’s eve, I wonder if we might, as we do for the secular new year, think about our hopes for the coming year. What might our world look like a year from now if we began to live more fully the way Jesus calls us to live? How might our lives be more fully transformed if we really took seriously Jesus’ new way? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">We often say that only in fairy tales do people live happily ever after. But in truth, happily ever after is what God’s kingdom is really all about. Not the happily ever after of princesses and castles and crowns, but the happily ever after of a world in which no one goes hungry, no one is shunned or cast out, a world in which violence is laid to rest and peace reigns. It’s not living in a fairy tale to imagine such a world, because that is the kingdom God promises us. That is the kingdom Jesus died on a cross for. That is the kingdom that is here but not yet fully realized. That is the kingdom we can work for, if only we will. That is the Kingdom of Christ the King.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">AMEN</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0